Cajun Queen
by letmefallasleep
Summary: "Well, if dis ain't a day for de history books. Here I was tinkin' you was a Marine; must a gotten ya confused with dem National Guard bougs." Merle chuckled as he opened one eye, seeing a flash of dark red hair. "Gotta be in hell, Frenchie; Never would a let ya in upstairs." Merle/OFC, warnings inside. 'T' for now, rating will probably go up later
1. Cajun Queen

A/N: Alright, so. I decided a few days ago I wanted to do a Merle/OFC fic. And then I spent two days trying to figure out a female character that would actually hold Merle down, or even want to to hold him down lol. The result was this fic. The title is from James Dean's 'Cajun Queen'.

Warnings: Merle Dixon is the consummate asshole, and racist. So be forewarned, there will be some racist language in this story. I'm not racist, and while I don't endorse or use the type of language that you'll read, I'm not going to sugar-coat, and change Merle so I don't hurt people's feelings. I figure if you're reading this, you know exactly what type of man Merle is, so you should be expecting it.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead, Merle Dixon, or Michael Rooker. If I did... I wouldn't share them with you.

On the Dialect: The OFC in this story is Cajun, of which, I'm not. My father's best friend and his family are though, and I'm using what I've heard from them as most of dialect for this. Firstly, 'Th' is pronounced as 'D', as in 'dat' (that) 'dem' (them), or occasionally as just 'T', as in 'tinkin' (thinking). As far as sounds... The only way I can describe it is a fast-paced drawl if that makes any sense what so ever. Most of these words probably aren't spelled right, as Cajun isn't a written language, but a spoken one.

* * *

Merle grunted as he lost his grip, slamming his chin and head off of the last few rungs of the fire escape, slamming into the concrete ground.

Well... Good a place to die as any, he supposed.

He could hear the Geeks growling. Didn't sound close, but he knew that'd change as soon as they caught the scent of fresh meat. He wished he had his pistol that he'd left with Daryl; a bullet to the head was starting to sound like a mighty fine last meal, compared to the prospect of being eaten alive.

Although if the damn walking corpses didn't hurry up, he probably wouldn't have to worry about the 'alive' part.

"Well, if dis ain't a day for de history books. Here I was tinkin' you was a _Marine_; must a gotten ya confused with dem _National Guard_ _bougs_."

Merle chuckled as he opened one eye, seeing a flash of dark red hair.

"Gotta be in hell, Frenchie; Never would a let ya in upstairs."

And with that... Merle Dixon let his eyes close, letting Frenchie's voice lead him along the path of the dead.

* * *

The woman caught his eye, and not just 'cause she was probably the only woman around for miles who didn't have facial hair.

"Hey," Merle muttered, elbowing the kid sitting next to him. "Who the hell is that?"

The kid – a pasty faced, gangly looking little Yank – followed his gaze across the room.

"Oh, that? That's Lantier," The kid whispered back, giving Merle a shit-eating grin. "Wouldn't try your luck though; she's not particularly friendly, or so I hear."

Merle ignored the little shit-stain's further attempts at conversation, letting his eyes drift over the dark, red-haired woman standing in line to get her grub. The standard issue uniform did nothing to hide her nice rack, although the pants weren't doing her backside any favors. But glancing at her well-toned arms, and torso, he assumed she probably had one hell of an ass hiding underneath those baggy green pants.

Tall, too. God, he liked tall women. Normally, he preferred blondes, but he had to admit, there was something about that blood-red mane a hers that was making him all sorts of hot and bothered.

And that rack! That sports bra – standard issue for woman in the military – was bouncing _up and down, up and down..._

"You got some 'tin ya wanna say, _boug_, or you jus' a _domion_?"

Merle was a little surprised, firstly by the fact that the woman was standing right in front of him, green eyes flashing angrily, secondly by the thick accent that came out of those full, luscious lips.

"Well, I'll be damned! We got ourselves a Frenchie here!" He said with a throaty chuckle, letting his eyes wander up and down the woman. Damned if she wasn't prettier up close than he'd thought when he'd first seen her. "Never thought I'd see one a your kind outside of a swamp!"

"An' I never tought I'd be seein' a hundred an' fity pound sack o' shit eider, but hey, de world is full o' surprises, _non_?" She said with a snort, before sashaying away.

* * *

It was surprising how often he seen her after that; it seemed like every time he turned around, he was catching small glimpses of that red hair tucked under a green cap.

He also started to notice how much shit she was getting from the other guys. Now Merle wasn't one of those pussy-whipped bitch-men, who crowed about 'women being just as good as any man', but on the flip side of that, he knew that women weren't all meek and mild, easily shoved around. Hell, his mama had given his daddy just as good as she got. Annie Dixon had been a force to be reckoned with, instilling fear around the neighborhood – and her own home – that had nothing to do with her husband.

And the more he seen of 'PFC. Lantier', the more he realized that she was better than half the guys in their training groups, even with half the shit they piled on her. Trying to make her fail.

He'd seen a few of them trip her up while on runs. Saw her take a few dirty hits while they were in hand-to-hand training. Even saw one guy give her a shove while she was on the practice wall, sending her flying into the mud on the other side.

The one thing he didn't see was her complain, or attempt any payback. She always just seemed to grit her teeth, and keep moving. Hell, most guys he knew would've – at the very least – thrown a few punches at the offending party, or even talked to the sergeant about it. But she handled it like... like a man, Merle thought with a grin as he tugged his dirty, mud-covered boots off, before dropping down onto his bunk. And after that, sleep quickly chased all thoughts of PFC. Lantier from his mind, exhaustion robbing him of even the chance to dream of her.

* * *

"_Stay wid me, Dixon; ain't gon' have ya dyin' on me now, non. Ya jus' keep dem blue eyes a yours open. Be jus' like you, it would; leave poor ol' _chere_ here all lonely like. Jus' when Ah was t'inkin' Ah'd have some company, me. You ugly mug be de first friendly face Ah seen in a long time, _cher_."_

* * *

Merle watched, keeping his face expressionless as Lantier – if anyone knew her first name, they weren't sharing the info with him – stepped up to the edge of the platform, ready to take her turn at shimmying down the rope. And he watched as Medina – a nasty little weasel of a wetback – snaked his arm out, and gave her a hard shove.

It was easily a ten foot fall to the ground below, and Merle almost winced in sympathy as he heard the hard thud of the Cajun hitting the ground.

"Lantier! What the hell happened?!" Sgt. Balcom demanded, stepping around the wooden platform to look at the girl. "First day on the new feet?!"

"Sir... No, sir," Lantier bit out, and even from where he stood a few feet away with the others who had completed the exercise, Merle could see her grit her teeth.

"Then get your ass up, and get to the medic! Dixon!" Merle pulled himself up a little straighter, yanking his eyes away from the still-prone form of Lantier, and looking towards the sergeant. "Since you can't stop making googly eyes, make yourself useful, and give her a hand! The rest of you, move on!"

A few groans, and more than a bit of muttering followed the sergeant's last order, and the other men gradually started to fade away as Merle walked over to Lantier, frowning.

"Ya gonna get up there, Frenchie, or ya jus' gonna lie in the mud all day? Waitin' for ya damn _poodle_ ta come an' save ya?" He asked roughly, setting down on the balls of his feet, resting his elbows on his knees.

The woman cracked open one eye, and shot him a glare that matched anything his father had ever given him.

"Fuck you, _couyon_."

"Aw, is the little girly upset now? Then why don't ya get ya ass up off the damn ground?

"_Merde_, but do he ever shut his mouth, him?"

Merle flashed the woman a grin. "Oh, I'm sorry, Frenchie; thought ya wanted ta be a _Marine_. Ballet is down the road aways; want me ta _carry_ ya there?"

His words had the intended effect, as Lantier pushed herself up on her elbows, grimacing in pain as she did, but keeping her glare fixed on him.

"You gon' help a _fille_ up dere?" She grunted finally. "Tink Ah sprained my ankle."

Merle stood, and offered her a hand, helping pull her up, before wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders.

* * *

"_Ah'm sorry, _cher_. Dis gon' hurt some tin fierce. _C'est la vie_. Always knew you mouth was gon' get you into trouble someday, me. Too charming for you own good, what Maw Maw would say."_

_Pain. Burning, searing, red-hot, fiery, agonizing, indescribable pain._

"_You jus' hold on dere, _cher_. Hold on to ol' Savannah's voice, you. It's gon' all be over soon. You jus' listen to ol' Frenchie, _de pouille_. She gon' get you safe. Don' you worry."_


	2. Nights We'll Never Forget

A/N: Alright, so thank you to everyone who reviewed on the first chapter. : ) Y'all are awesome.

* * *

Merle groaned, pain lancing through his entire body, as he forced one eye open, his head still spinning and aching something fierce. It took him a few minutes to come to the conclusion that he hurt too damn much to be dead.

His limbs felt like jello as he swung them over the edge of... a bed? How the hell had he ended up in a bed? He wondered, moving his hand to scratch his head.

Everything came rushing back to him as the stump of what had once been his hand bumped against his head, sending shock waves of agony coursing up his arm, a string of curses filing the small bedroom.

The door flew open, and instantly, Merle stopped cussing.

"Frenchie?" He asked, a note of amazement in his voice. "That really you?"

Seventeen years had only improved her looks; gone was the baby-fat cheeks and dimples, replaced with high, narrow cheek bones, and a small scar below her left eye. But those red lips hadn't changed, and he'd know that blood-red hair anywhere.

"Dat's 'Captain' Frenchie to you, Dixon," Lantier said with a grin, leaning against the door jam, arms folded across her chest. Merle almost forgot his missing hand, his jeans tightening uncomfortably as he seen her – for the first time – in civie clothes. The tight, dark-wash jeans that curved and hugged in all the right places, and the black, skin-tight shirt that showcased her perky, perfect breasts almost better than he could have imagined.

"Captain, huh?" He said with a chuckle, resting his feet on the floor as he leaned back against the wall. "So ya stayed in."

"Oui. Ended up in MARSOC tree years ago, me. Got my own team, an' every 'tin. Jus' in time for de world ta go ta hell, non? But 'nough 'bout me. Mind tellin' ol' _chere_ what happened ta your arm?"

Merle grunted, unable to bring himself to look at the bandaged stump. "Managed to find the one cop still alive," He growled, the memory of 'Officer Friendly' making his blood boil. "Handcuffed me to a pipe on that roof. Then the stupid nigger with him dropped the fuckin' key."

"So dey cut you hand off? Mon Dieu, dat's a group ol' Savannah don' wanna meet."

"They didn't do shit. They left me on that God-forsaken roof ta die!"

Savannah's green eyes widened, as she realized exactly what he say saying, her lips pursing tightly as she shook her head. "Always said you was a _fou_ bastard, _cher_. Ain't notin' dat can kill ol' Merle but Merle, oui?"

Merle snorted. "They came pretty damn close though. How long I been here? And where the hell is 'here', anyways? And what the hell are ya doin' in _Atlanta_, Frenchie?"

Savannah shrugged as she walked over, sitting on the bed next to him, and starting to pull the bandages off of the stump.

"Ol' farm house, few miles south of de city. After I found you on de roof, knew Ah had ta get you somewhere safe, me. Dis was de first place I find dat hadn't been completely picked over. As far as how ol' chere ended up in Atlanta... _Mais_, dis was 'Ground Zero' for de outbreak. Four teams was sent here, try an' protect de CDC, an' evacuate de important folks. Dat's when ol' Savannah realized dat her wasn't gon' get evacuated. Dey left us behind," She said, her voice soft as she finished pulling the wrapping off.

Merle bit back another groan as she gently poked and prodded at the wound, before she gave him a grim smile.

"Ol' Frenchie, she keep you pretty good, non? No infection dere. Dough, Ah don' wanna tink 'bout de nerves an' shit you messed up. Ca ne fait rein. Don' madder none now. Done is done, as Maw Maw always say."

"Ya know, your grandma musta never shut up ta come up with all these sayings," Merle said, forcing himself to chuckle. "So ya got anybody else I might know with ya?"

Savannah shook her head slowly as she stood. "Non. C'mon out here; gon' need ta wrap dat up 'gain," She said quietly, offering him a hand up.

* * *

_Seventeen years earlier_

Merle chuckled under his breath, glancing around the bar at their assorted class, who were all in various stages of idiocy, flirting with anything that had a pussy.

"Ya think none a 'em ever drank before," He said loudly, to be heard over the din.

Savannah grinned as she raised her shot glass towards him in a salute. "Well, here's to drinkin' wid my bedders, non?"

"Amen to that, sister," Merle laughed, raising his own glass. After a few minutes of companionable silence, he asked, "So ya hear back from the NROTC yet?"

Savannah shrugged, taking a chaser of her Coors. "Non. Still waitin'. You got anybody comin' up for de graduation?"

Merle snorted. "Ya kiddin'? My ol' man probably don't even know I'm gone yet. How 'bout you?"

"Oui, my maw maw, and paw paw should be here by de end o' de week. Bringin' all nine o' my brodders an' sisters."

"Nine? Holy shit!" Merle gasped, nearly choking on his whiskey. "Damn, your parents were busy folks, huh?"

Savannah laughed. "Oui. seven boys, tree girls. Daddy couldn't get de time off de rig, but mama's gon' try an' be here if Mee-Maw is doin' bedder. Tante Georgie and Nonc Louis gonna be here, wid dere six peeshawnks."

Merle frowned, squinting one eye at her as he shook his head. "Ya know, tryin' ta follow your family tree is 'bout as confusin' as tryin' ta understand ya when ya get mad."

Savannah rolled her eyes, as she motioned to the waitress for another shot. "My grandparents gon' be here, my daddy couldn't get de time off de oil rig, mama don' wanna leave my great-grandmother with the nurse 'less she doin' bedder, an' my aunt an' uncle gon' be here wid dere six runts."

"Excuse me?"

Both Savannah and Merle's heads snapped around, glaring at the young man who'd interrupted their conversation. He wasn't one of the other graduating marines, but one of the many civilians who'd started wandering into the bar recently

"Need somethin', son?" Merle asked roughly, glaring at the preppy, blonde haired kid.

"I was wondering if maybe the lady would like to dance," The boy said, clearly ignoring Merle's grinding teeth, as he shot Savannah a smile.

Savannah didn't return the gesture, letting her gaze wander up and down the pretty boy for a few minutes, clearly enjoying the younger man's discomfort, before she snorted.

"Sorry, boug; don' much care for preddy bougs, me," She finally said disdainfully, turning her head back towards Merle.

"Oh come on; just one dance," The man cajoled, putting a hand on her arm.

Merle stood, his large, six-foot-two frame towering over the other man, his blue eyes flashing angrily.

"She said she ain't interested," He growled. "I suggest ya remove that hand, 'fore I remove it for ya."

"You her keeper?" The man shot back, and Savannah felt her hackles raise as three more men started towards them, probably the man's friends coming to see what was going on.


	3. Minous

A/N: Alright, so... this chapter is kind of short, I know, but it was a perfect place to end it, blagh blagh blagh. Sorry about the wait, I've been having some minor difficulties with writer's block, but I think I've just about got it all sorted out now. Hopefully, another chapter tomorrow night, or the night after. Thanks to everyone who's read, and special thanks to those of you who have reviewed. : )

* * *

"So what happened to your team?" Merle asked, sitting down at the rickety table, as Frenchie went over to stand by the stove.

"Dey didn't make it, dem," She said shortly, stirring something in a large pot, before grabbing a small first aid kit from the counter. "Get you bandaged up, 'fore you go an' get sick on ol' _chere_ 'gain, non?"

Merle grimaced as he set his arm – _his Goddamned stump_ – on the table, and Frenchie started rubbing something over it.

"Do I even wanna know what that is?" He asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain lancing straight up to his shoulder.

"One o' Maw Maw's cure-alls. Oh, stop bein' such a _bebe_," She snapped, as he started to pull his arm away, a trace of fear crossing his features.

"Baby?! Shit, probably nine kinds a voodoo, an' dead critters in that!" Merle swore, glancing at the brown goop that she'd applied.

"Ain't killed you yet, _cher_," She said firmly, glaring as she grabbed his arm back, and slathering more of the rotten-smelling gunk on it. "An' been puttin' it on you for whole week now, me. 'Sides, you got any idea how long it took Ol' _chere_ to find dem 'voodoo' herbs? Nearly whole _day_ it took. So shush you mouth, an' quit you crying."

When she was finished, Merle watched her dextrous, thin fingers quickly wrap a few layers of gauze around the wound, before she stood again, nodding her head, and walking back over to the stove.

"You gon' be fine, cher. 'Specially once we get some o' Ol' Frenchie's jambalaya in you. Back to you ol' cursin', spittin' self, you."

Merle grunted in response, as he pushed himself to his feet, and walked over next to her, leaning against the counter as he watched her throw a handful of what looked like leaves into the pot.

"Ya ever get married, Frenchie?"

A snort was her only reply.

"Yeah, didn't figure ya did," He chuckled. "Always too busy kickin' their asses, huh?"

"You just tryin' to check out you competition, Dixon?" She asked with a grin. " 'Cause ol' _chere_ gotta say... time ain't 'xactly been you friend, non? Look like got run over by de bus, you."

Merle laughed again, wrapping his good arm around her shoulders as he glanced down in the pot, trying to identify... well, _anything_ that was cooking inside.

"Like I'd even be _interested_, Frenchie. I wanna woman who's cookin' I can actually _eat_. Gets all her groceries at the damn _grocery_ store. Do I even wanna know what's in this shit?"

She grinned, green eyes twinkling as she shrugged. "Let's jus' say... More Chinese den Cajun."

Merle frowned for a minute, trying to figure out what she meant, before grimaced again as her meaning sank in.

"Damn. You coon-asses'll eat anythin', won't ya?"

"Don' like it, don' eat it," She said simply. "Make you feel any bedder, it's _minou_. Seem to 'member Ol' Merle don' like cats much, _non_?."

Merle shook his head as he sat back down. "You's one sick puppy, Frenchie."

"Nah, dat's what we havin' tomorrow."

* * *

_"Come on now, sweetheart; just one dance," The man tried again, apparently feeling a lot more brazen now that his three friends stood behind him, trying unsuccessfully to stare down Merle._

_"You deaf, boug, or just couyon, you? Said Ah ain't interested, bioque," She bit out. "Ain't gon' say 'gain: get lost."_

_"Just one quick dance," The man said, giving her arm a tug._

_Deciding that the little bastard wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer, Savannah lashed out, grabbing the man's arm, and smashing it into the table, before using him as a sort of bridge as she went up and over him. Merle had started swinging at the other three, one already down for the count by the looks of his bloody face._

_Before long, it seemed like the whole bar had gotten involved, with the Marine cadets squaring off against the civilians in a 'free-for-all' brawl. When all was said and done, Merle and Savannah were thrown out by the bouncers. They sat there, panting a bit, before Savannah grinned, looking over at Merle._

_"Hey, Dixon?"_

_Merle glanced at her, breathing heavily, a bit of blood dripping down his chin. "What?"_

_" 'Tink ol' chere want dat dance now."_

_He glared as he stood, helping her to her feet as they started the long walk back to their base._

_"You ain't wrapped all that tight, Frenchie."_

* * *

End note: I DO NOT ENDORSE EATING YOUR PETS! Even in a post-apocalyptic world! Pet-eating is bad! Just had to mention that. : (


	4. Napalm

A/N: Thank you so much to everybody who's added this to their lists, and special thanks to all of you who've reviewed. Wasn't sure if there would be enough (if any) Merle fans out there to waste my time writing this; I'm glad I was wrong lol. : )

* * *

Merle grimaced as he took his first bite of the soup concoction, unable to stop the images of skinned kittens from flashing through his mind as he forced himself to swallow despite the heaving of his stomach.

"If you don' eat dat, _cher_, Ah ain't makin' you any'tin else," Savannah growled from across the table. "Maw Maw always say, starvation is de best cure for de picky stomach."

Merle grunted as he took another bite, practically choking the thick mess down, before he replied, "Yeah, well, I didn't grow up eatin' roadkill, leaves, an' kittens there, Frenchie. Gonna take some gettin' used to."

It actually didn't taste too bad, as long as he didn't think about what was in it. And his stomach felt like he hadn't eaten in a month, so he made quick work of the bowl, although he couldn't quite bring himself to get a second helping, no matter how hungry he was. He'd eaten a lot of things in his day - squirrel, possum, woodchuck, hedgehogs, and armadillos sprang to mind - but..._ damn. Cat_.

"So ya know anythin' 'bout what's been goin' on out there?" He asked, leaning back in his chair, and fixing Savannah with an intent look as he shoved his bowl towards the center of the table.

" 'Ccordin' to de higher ups, don' _nobody_ know how dis all started," She said with a shrug. "But it started down here. First 'ported outbreak was in Augusta. Wid in few weeks, started hearin' o' it poppin' up all over de country, all de way into Canada. By de time my team were sent down, most a quarter people be dead, an' walkin' again. Only good news we had was dat it didn't 'fect dose already dead 'fore dis _merde_ all started. Hard enough dealin' wid dis mess; 'magine if dere were two hundred _years_ o' dead people crawlin' 'round on top o' every'tin else."

"So... you an' four other teams was sent down here for...?"

"Try an' hol' de CDC, mostly. Evacuate de governor, lieutenant governor, senators, few rich bougs an' de families if we could."

Merle frowned. "The CDC go down?"

"Don' know, me. Once Ah figured out we wasn't goin' be evacuated, dat we were gon' be de... sacrificial lamb? Ol' chere got her team, an' left. Weren't gon' be de bait so de higher ups get out," She said scornfully, pushing herself to her feet, and walking over to the counter, leaning both hands against it, her back towards him. "Las' I knew, dey walled off de buildin', an' started de napalm strikes."

"Napalm?!"

She turned, giving him a sad smile. "Oui. Napalmed de whole damn city, _cher_. Dey leveled half o' downtown, an' most de suburbs. 'Member Medina? Dat's where he bought it, him. We was hidin' in an old bank vault, us, an' when he heard de bombs start, him wanted to see what was happenin'. Ran outside... By de time it was all over, he was one hell o' a crispy critter."

"Now wait just a damn a minute, Frenchie," Merle interrupted angrily. "If this thing spread to the whole fuckin' country, what the hell was the point a carpet-bombing Atlanta?"

"Don't tink it _was_ jus' Atlanta, _cher_. 'Fore we left de CDC, heard rumors dat New York City, Los Angeles, an' Chicago already gone, dem. Tink dey went t'rough, an' bombed all de big cities. Try an' keep it from spreadin' more. Ol' chere didn't wanna believe it first, but after Atlanta... _Mais_... sort o' hard to argue wid you own eyes, non? After seein' dat... _Merde_, ol' _chere_ don' never wanna see _no'tin_ like dat again, me."

She shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the images there, before she gave him a smile. "What 'bout ol' Merle? Where's you brudder, huh? Dat little _peeshwank_ 'most as tough as you. He still 'live an' kickin' somewhere?"

* * *

"Hey, Frenchie!" Merle called, moving through the crowd of cadets who were still waiting to see where they were going to be stationed, keeping his eyes peeled for a splash of red hair. "Frenchie! Where the hell are ya, you lousy coon-ass?"

Finally, he managed to force his way through the green sea, and found Savannah sitting away from the chaos, over by the obstacle course.

"Looks like we're goin' to Iraq," He said with a grin. "Deploy in three months. Guess that means we got three months a hell-raising, huh? What?" He asked curiously, seeing the anger written on her face.

"Ain't goin', me. Got de orders dis mornin'; ol' Frenchie gets ta be a damn 'ffirmative action number," She said bitterly, pulling up a handful of grass, and chucking it towards the mob. "Dey posted me in de French embassy. Said de needed a _fille_ dere, an' de last one jus' got herself pregnant. An' dose damn couyons seem to tink dat 'cause ol' _chere_ is Cajun, she gotta speak good French, her."

"You serious?" Merle asked roughly, sitting down next to her. "When they shippin' ya out?"

"Six weeks."

Merle was quiet for a moment, before he finally grunted. "Well, I figure we can see lotta shit in six weeks, huh? I gotta go check on my baby brother, then maybe you show me your swamps. Make a road trip or some shit out of it."


	5. Homecoming

A/N: Alright so thank you everyone for the reviews, they mean a lot to me. : ) Secondly, this entire chapter is going to be a flashback, maybe even the next few chapters, with random present day moments interspersed throughout. This chapter, and at the very least the one after will be focusing Merle's 'homecoming' after their graduation, and then his and Savannah's road trip. Daryl will play a minor role in the next few chapters, just so y'all know in advance. Thanks for reading, special thanks for reviewing.

Warning: This issue deals with Daddy Dixon, and child neglect

* * *

Merle stared out the windshield of Savannah's jeep for a few minutes, a frown plastered on his face as he looked at the run-down, ramshackle house he'd grown up in.

"Well? What you waitin' for? Invitation?" Savannah asked sarcastically, getting out. "T'ought you wanted to see you brudder, you."

Merle snorted. "See that truck, Frenchie?" He asked, pointing to an old, rusted out blue Dodge sitting by the side of the house. "That's my ol' man's truck. Which means Daryl ain't in the house, unless he's gotten a helluva lot stupider in three months."

"So what? We gon' just sit an' stare at de house? Ol' Frenchie's ass be hurtin' some'tin fierce from sittin' in dis damn jeep for eight _heures_."

"Fine. Get out, walk around, stretch ya damn legs if ya want, but ya keep your ass _out here_," Merle snapped, exiting the truck.

"What, you not gon' introduce ol' Frenchie?"

"No. Stay outside."

He ignored the hurt look that flashed across Savannah's face as he stomped up towards the house. She could be as hurt as she wanted, there was no way he was letting her meet his old man. If he'd had any sort of vehicle, he wouldn't have even let her come as close to the house as she had, but since he had had to leave his bike behind when he went to boot camp...

He grimaced as he opened the flimsy door, the smell wafting out worse than he'd remembered. _Rotten food, stale beer and piss definitely wasn't a smell he'd missed back at Basic._

"Pop?" He called out cautiously, swinging the door closed behind him. "Pop, you here?"

"Merle? That you, boy?" Came the drunken, slurred voice of his father from the living room.

Merle shook his head as he stepped into the living room. Pop was sitting right where he'd left him, like the old man hadn't even moved while he was gone. The ever-present pile of beer cans, whiskey bottles, and cigarette butts still lay on the floor, scattered around a few pizza boxes that were growing mold.

"Where the hell you been, boy? I'm supposed ta take ya ta the airport tomorrow," Harold Dixon muttered, glaring at Merle with those blood-shot blue eyes. "Can't miss ya first day a basic."

Merle sighed. "Pop, that was three months ago. I graduated last week."

"Wha'?! Quit your fuckin' shittin', ya bastard. Got it marked... marked on the calendar... On the fridge. May 24th, an' that's tomorrow!"

"It's _September_, Pop!" Merle said through gritted teeth, before shaking his head again. "Ya know what? Never fuckin' mind. Where the hell's Daryl?" At his dad's quizzical look, Merle cursed. "Shit, Pop, c'mon! Daryl? Ya _other_ big 'disappointment'? The '_little'_ bastard? Any a this ringin' a goddamn bell in that stupid skull a yours?!"

"Don't ya give me none a that smart-ass mouth a yours, boy, or I'll tan your ass," Harold slurred, glancing around the chair. Probably looking for his belt, Merle thought darkly, as he scoffed.

"Yeah, sure, Pop. Like ya can even lift ya fat ass outta that damn chair, ya so drunk," Merle said scornfully.

"Always a smart-ass. Jus' like ya damn mama. Always disrespectful. S'where that shithead little brother a yours gets it from, ya know!"

Leaning back against the archway into the living room, Merle folded his arms across his chest, running with his father's temporary moment of clarity. "Yeah, Pop: the '_shithead little brother_'. Where the fuck is he?"

Harold's brow wrinkled in confusion, his head lolling to the side a bit, clearly trying to think.

"Might... might still be in... in the basement," He finally said slowly.

" '_Still_'?" Merle said sharply. "The fuck you mean '_still_'? How fuckin' long he been down there?! Fuck!" He didn't even wait for a response as he raced towards the back of the house, and into the small pantry that lead down into the basement. When he seen the that the deadbolt was still locked, his cursing began anew as he undid the lock, throwing the door open.

"Daryl? You down here, boy?" He called as he carefully made his way down the steps in the dark, the single light bulb having been blown for as long he could remember. "Daryl?"

"Me... Merle?"

He quickly pinpointed the weak voice as having come from the corner, and he gingerly started that way, careful to test each step so he wouldn't end up stepping on the poor kid. As his eyes slowly began to adjust, he could just barely make out the outline of his little brother laying curled up in a ball against the wall.

"Shit," He cussed softly, kneeling down next to the small body. "How long he kept ya down here, little brother?"

Daryl gasped a little as Merle picked him up, and cradled him close to his chest. The boy couldn't have weighed much more than sixty pounds, and Merle could feel just about everyone of the ten year old's ribs jutting out from beneath his over-sized tee shirt, he realized angrily.

"Almost... almost a week? Since... since Tuesday... Got... got water... from the pipes..."

Merle's hands tightened around Daryl's emaciated body as he moved back up the stairs. _Tuesday_. It was Thursday, and given Daryl's shitty state, Merle was pretty sure the kid didn't mean '_day before yesterday_' Tuesday. _Fuck_. " 'M sorry, little brother," He muttered, wincing as Daryl's face scrunched up in pain from the sudden exposure to light as Merle carried him into the kitchen. "Never should a left ya here."

* * *

Savannah was already a few minutes past '_bored_', and was starting to work her way towards '_pissed_' as she drummed her fingers on the hood of her jeep, flicking her cigarette almost constantly in her agitation.

She wondered what the hell Merle's problem was. Was he embarrassed 'cause the house looked damn near ready to fall over? She snorted at that thought, flicking her butt into the rocky driveway. She'd grown up in stick-cabins in the swamps for a good part of her life; a house weren't nothin' to be embarrassed by, no matter what it looked like.

Maybe his old man didn't like Cajuns. She found that a little unlikely, given how few people even knew about her 'kind', but it was possible, she supposed. Given Merle's obvious racism towards colored folk, it was probably the reason, she decided.

_Well... Ain't never let 'lil ol' thing like dat stop me 'fore,_ she thought with a grin, as she pushed off the hood of the jeep.

"Dixon! Ol' _chere_ ain't gon' sit out here in de hot sun all day, waitin' on you!" She called loudly, taking a few steps towards the house.

But she froze for a moment when Merle appeared on the porch, carrying a small boy in his arms.

"_Maudit_, what de hell happen to him?!" She demanded, rushing up the steps to Merle's side.

"None a ya damn business, Frenchie," Merle growled, ignoring her as he moved towards her jeep. "Let's jus' get outta here, a'ight?"

Savannah let out a large breathe as she climbed in the driver side, sparing Merle only a sideways glance as he got in, still keeping the _petit garcon_ folded up on his lap.

"_Mais_... Where we goin', us?" She asked as she turned the vehicle around, and started back down the driveway.

"There's a little hotel back towards the highway. Pull in there."


	6. Homecoming II

A/N: Alrighty, so firstly, thanks for all the awesome reviews. Y'all make me feel very loved. Remember, reviews are like crack for the plot bunnies; they simply go insane with ideas, forcing my fingers to type up nice, new, long chapters for you guys. : )

* * *

Merle sighed as they pulled into the small motel, a feeling of deja vu washing over him as Savannah shut the jeep off.

Both him and Daryl had spent a lot of time at the 'Dew Drop Inn' (which was about as low class, and cheap as it sounded), patching up their wounds, and getting a good night's sleep whenever Pop had come home from one of his benders. The old woman who ran the place for her husband had been one of the only people in the small town of Amboy who hadn't treated the two brothers like scum. Or to be more accurate, the only one in the damn town who didn't treat the Dixon brothers the same way the town treated their old man. She'd always accepted whatever pocket change the two boys could scrap together without a word, just handing them the key to room 9 with a small smile.

Merle had been seventeen when he'd finally realized exactly what the old woman had done for them. Up until then, he'd never thought about the first aid kit that was always waiting in the room for them, or how he'd never had to pay for the cartoon channels – a rare luxury for Daryl, who was rarely allowed to even look at the TV at home, much less watch cartoons. The oldest Dixon had never considered that most people probably didn't find Pop-Tarts, and Snickers candy bars waiting in the room for them either.

One time Merle had limped his way into the small lobby area, his nose broken, one eye swollen shut, and blood gushing out of the large gash on his forehead, and given the lady all the money he had – a whole thirteen dollars of it – before going out, and carrying a far-too still Daryl into the small bedroom. An hour later, his heart had nearly leaped out of his throat when there was a knock on the door, his first instinct being 'Pop', quickly followed by 'cops'. He'd waited a minute, hoping whoever it was would go away, when he'd heard the knock again.

* * *

_Daryl looked up at Merle fearfully, his baby-blue eyes wide in terror._

"_Lock ya self in the bathroom, boy, an' don't come out unless I say. Ya hear me?" The sixteen year old Merle had ordered quietly, giving his brother a gentle shove towards the bathroom door. He'd waited just long enough to hear the lock click, before he'd sighed, and opened the door._

"_I've got a... large pizza, extra pepperoni?"_

_Merle's jaw nearly fell on the floor in his shock. "Didn't order no pizza," He finally muttered, the smell coming off the box setting his mouth to watering._

"_The lady at the desk said it was for room nine... Merle Dixon?"_

"_I... I don't uh... I don't have no money."_

"_Mrs. Leiberman at the front desk paid for it."_

* * *

"What now, cher?"

Savannah's quiet voice pulled Merle from his memories, and he spared the woman beside him a quick glance, before looking down at Daryl again.

"I'm gonna go get a room, kid. Ya stay here, an' I'll be back out in a sec, a'ight?" He said quietly, trying to ignore the scared look in his little brother's eyes.

"Please... don't leave me 'gain, Merle," Daryl begged weakly, his fingers digging into Merle's denim jacket. "Please."

"Hey now, none a that shit, ya hear me, boy? I'm jus' gonna go get us a room for the night. I'll be back in a few minutes. Ya jus' stay here with Frenchie, a'ight? She ain't gonna hurt ya none."

He didn't wait for a response, knowing that one more second of staring into those desperate, pleading eyes, and he wouldn't be able to let his little brother out of his arms again.

Savannah lit a cigarette, careful to keep her movements slow, and her hands in plain sight as the kid stared at her fearfully, huddled against the door.

"_Mais_, you must be Daryl, _non_?" She asked, giving the boy a smile. "You brudder told me all about you, him did. Back when we was in boot camp togedder. Merle say you one o' de toughest _petit garcon_ he ever known, him." When she got no response, she trudged ahead anyways, always keeping her voice light. "Ol' Frenchie, she got a few liddle brudders. Tink you probably 'bout de same age as Adelphe an' Olivier, you. D'ough, dey both a 'lil bit bigger den you."

"I'm ten."

Savannah forced her smile into a look of amazement. "_Vraiment_? _Dieu_, but you is mighty big for ten whole years. You must take after you brudder, huh? Ol' Merle... _Mais_, Frenchie ain't met a tougher _homme_. Used to 'trow 'round all dose damn yank _salauds_ we trained wid, him."

And with those words, she knew she had the young boy hooked. Just like her own little brothers and sisters did to her, the boy obviously worshiped his older brother.

She had to fight to keep from chuckling as Daryl pulled himself up a little straighter, the pride in his voice unmistakable, as he boasted, "Merle's toughest sum bitch 'round. Everybody says so."

"Does dey, now? _Mais_, let ol '_chere_ tell you some'tin, garcon: you brudder one o' de toughest _fils de putain_ _anywhere_, him."

"Who ya callin' a bitch, Frenchie? Ya better not be talkin' bad 'bout me ta my little brother," Merle said, his voice filled with forced amusement as he leaned on the door of the jeep.

"Oh, come on now, _cher_; would ol' Savannah say a 'ting like dat?"

Merle snorted as he climbed in, lightly shoving Daryl to the middle. "In a damn heartbeat, Frenchie. Our room's out back. Park on the side."

* * *

Merle was assailed by memories – most of them unpleasant – as he stepped into room 9. Nothing had really changed much. Beds still had the most fucking ugly floral blankets, with the same damn nightstand, and same old-as-dirt TV on the stand across from the beds.

"Pick a bed, kid," He grunted, glancing down at Daryl. "Then strip down to ya undershorts."

Daryl silently complied, the routine being a familiar one as he went to the bed farthest away from the door, sitting down gingerly as he bent over, and began tugging on his boots.

"_Mon Dieu_," Savannah grumbled, elbowing Merle out of the way as she moved closer to the bed, only sparing him a passing glare before kneeling down next to Daryl's feet. "You just sit you self back on dat bed, _boug_," She instructed, unlacing his boots, and gently pulling them off, quickly followed by his socks. "Unzip you pants." When Daryl slowly complied, she eased the too-small jeans off, and Merle could see her face harden at the mess of bruises covering his little brother's stick-thin legs, before she reached up, and helped him pull his shirt off, leaving Daryl in a pair of dirty boxers. "Merle, go get ol' chere de first aid kit from de jeep."

Merle growled a bit at being ordered around, but in all honesty, he really didn't want to even look at his younger brother. The bruises and welts were all too familiar; hell, he'd seen enough of 'em on himself. Didn't need or want to see him Daryl, he thought darkly as he rummaged through Savannah's backpack, and pulling out the tin container with the red cross.

He paused for a moment in the doorway to the room, a small lump building in his throat as he watched the scene before him. Savannah had gotten a wet washcloth – more like a rag, really, he thought with a snort – and was gently running it over Daryl's dirt-stained face, before she moved down to his arms, and finally his legs, moving quickly, but softly.

"Here," He muttered, tossing the kit onto the bed next to Daryl. "I need a smoke."

* * *

"Is Merle mad at me?"

Savannah looked up from the nasty scratch on the kid's leg, pausing her ministrations. "_Ain_? Why would you say such a 'ting, you?"

" 'Cause he looks mad," The child responded simply.

Savannah sighed as she went back to rubbing ointment on the cut. "Non, honey chile; ol' Merle ain't mad at you."

"Then why's he mad?"

"_Mais_... 'tink him mad 'cause someone done hurt you, an' he weren't dere to help you, him," She said slowly. "Him mad _for_ you; not _at_ you. Dat make sense?"

Daryl scrunched up his nose a little bit. "A little. I guess."

"Trust ol' Frenchie, boo: when you get older, you understand bedder, oui? Now climb up dere under dose sheets, an' close dem eyes, you. Frenchie turn on de TV for you."

* * *

Merle was kneeling in the parking lot, wishing for a whiskey instead of the cheap, piss-ass beer Savannah kept in the back of the jeep as he alternated between chugging from the can, and taking large puffs off the cigarette.

"_Vomment ca vas_?"

Merle snorted loudly as Savannah knelt down next to him. "I'm pissed, Frenchie; how the hell ya think I feel?"

"_Chagren_, cher. Jus'... _Mon Dieu_, Merle. What de hell happen to him?"

"Our ol' man," Merle muttered darkly. "Same thing as always happens. Never should a _fuckin_' left him there. I jus'..." He paused, running his hands over his short blond hair. "Shit, Frenchie... Pop had him locked up in that damn basement, an' jus' _forgot_ 'bout him for nine fuckin' days. What if I hadn't a come home? Fuck, the damn fool didn't even realize I was fuckin' gone for three months."

He was surprised when he felt Savannah's hand on his shoulder. "Maw Maw always say, what is, is. You did come back, you. An' ol' chere don' 'tink him gon' be worse for wear."

"Yeah, for tonight. What the hell am I gonna do tomorrow? Next week? Shit, what the hell am I gonna do when I'm in fuckin' _Iraq_ for thirteen months?"

Savannah sighed, and lay her head against his. "Ol' Savannah don' have all de answers, mon cher. But as far as next week? An' de week after? Merde, if you ol' man didn't know you was gone for 'tree months, him, why don' we jus' take Daryl wid us to Louisiana? Hell, my folks got so many brats runnin' 'round, dem, dey ain't gon' notice a nudder one for few weeks."


	7. Famille

A/N: Alright so firstly, big and special shout out to Endoh Misaki, I stared at the keyboard for like two hours before she gave me some ideas for this. It's a little... well, it's not filler exactly, but I think it sets a lot of groundwork for Merle and Savannah's future relationship, and also I wanted to try and keep Merle in character as much as possible with all this, so... Well, yeah. This chapter is the result. : ) Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it means a lot to me. : )

* * *

Merle frowned as Savannah pulled the cigarette from his lips, and took a long drag, before exhaling a large smoke ring.

"That's my cigarette," He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer.

"Oui? An' dat's ol' chere's beer. So what you say, huh? Ain't like we had some place special we goin', us. Take your brudder, an' Frenchie show you Dixon boys 'round de Bayous."

"I ain't a fuckin' charity case, Lantier. An' neither is Daryl," Merle spat, ripping the cigarette out of her hand.

"So wha' den? You's t'ink 'cause Ah wan' go see mah own _petit_ brudders an' sisters, make you's charity? _Mon Dieu_, but you's a stubborn ol' _salaud_, you. Besides... ain't no'tin wrong with some charity now an' den. My whole _famille_ jus' one big charity case, us. Hell, ol' _chere_ grew up livin' in stick cabins mos' o' her life. My _pere_, him bounce from job to job whole time Ah growin' up. Mama took jobs washin' an' cleanin' for de richy rich o' de town, an' me an my older brudder bod dropped out o' de school to help out. Even den... nine kids, paw paw, maw maw, an' mee maw to take care o'... If people hadn't helped us out, many a night when my _petit_ brudders an' sisters would o' went hungry, dem." She paused for a moment, checking her various pockets, before pulling out a pack of Camels from the chest pocket of her over shirt.

Merle scoffed. "Yeah, well, sorry, '_chere_', but that ain't how I was raised. I don't need your damn charity, or your fuckin' pity."

Savannah growled low in her throat as she stood. "Oh, _mais_, if dat be de case den, Dixon, lets just take Daryl back to you place. You can spend de rest o' you miserable life dere, tryin' to keep you brudder safe. Or least, you can spend de next tree months frettin' an' worryin'. Ah'll jus' get in mah truck, an' leave, Ah will. An' you can sit here, an' try an' figure you shit out all on you own-some, you can. Miserable fuckin' _salaud_. Sit here an' have you fuckin' 'pity party'. You _non_ like pity? Bagh! You sittin' dere, feelin' nine kinds o' sorry for you'self, tellin' ol' Savannah you _non_ like pity, you," She snapped, throwing her cigarette to the ground, and stomping back towards the hotel room. "You decide you wanna be a big boug, an' do what bes' for you brudder, you, you come let Frenchie know!"

She was shocked when she felt Merle's large hand grab her shoulder, as he whipped her back around, and she found herself standing nose to nose with him.

"You don't know shit, Savannah." His voice was low, but his words seemed to thunder in his rage. "You got no idea what its like growin' up with an ol' man who locks ya up in the basement every time he brings one a his whores home. Ya don't know what it's like to be belted so bad ya can't hardly move, but ya get up anyways, 'cause ya know if ya don't, he's gonna take it out on ya mama, or ya little brother. I spent my whole goddamned life takin' care a that kid, so don't you fuckin' dare sit there an' get all high an' mighty with me!"

She ripped her arm out of his grasp, and stepped closer, forcing him back a step.

"Don' you dare sit dere an' say Ah don' know 'bout givin' up mah life for my _famille_. Why you tink I join de fuckin' marines, huh? I joined so my mama an' daddy could make de bills, dem. Put food on de table. I dropped out o' fuckin' school, started workin' as fuckin' waitress! I gived up every'tin for my damn _famille_! An' you 'tink you de only one wid problems? You _avocat bibitte_!

"An' non, my daddy never laid hands on me, him, but I grew up... wha' you call it? 'Po white trash'? Got teased every day, me. People in town look at me an' my famille like we was scum of de earth. Kids used to 'trow fuckin' _bricks_ at me, an' my brudders an' sisters. De boys used to corner me in de fuckin' bat'rooms at school, an' have dey way wid me, 'cause dey knew de fuckin' cops wouldn't do no'tin, 'cause I was jus' anodder fuckin' 'coon-ass'. So don' you fuckin' dare sit dere an' tell me, Ah don' know no'tin 'bout life bein' 'tough', me," She spat, shoving him back another step. "But I keep goin', me, 'cause I know dat I gotta do whatever de hell I gotta do for my _famille_. So you jus' suck up you fuckin' _fierte_, an' you do whatever de fuck it takes to do right by that _petit garcon_ in dere!

"You 'tink it were '_easy_' or some _merde_ on me ta be one o' only seven women wid four hundred _hommes_? 'Tink it were '_easy_' puttin' up wid all de _merde_ dem _bougs_ give me? Every day, I wanted to go back home to mah swamps, see my _famille_. Get so homesick, me, I wanna cry. But I suck it up, me, an' I keep goin' 'cause das what you do for you _famille_. You fuckin' do whatever de hell it takes, an' it don' madder how 'barrassing it is, or how much it fuckin' suck, you suck it up, an' you just fuckin' do it!"

Merle drew back, as if she'd slapped him, his eyes huge, staring for a few minutes, his jaw moving up and down, before he bolted into the encroaching darkness.

Savannah stared after him for a minute, before turning on her heel, and storming back into the motel room.


	8. Burgers

A/N: Yay for another chapter! This is going back to the present, and then back to the past again. Thank you so much for all the reviews, folks. The plot bunnies are literally going insane with the ideas for this, so hopefully they'll keep pounding out the chapters. : )

* * *

"Yeah. Yeah, Daryl's still 'round. Least whys, he was the mornin' those shitheads handcuffed me to that roof. He stayed behind, some shit 'bout gettin' some food for the damn brats," Merle said with a snort, leaning back in the chair, and folding his arms across his chest, wincing as the stump hit his other arm. "You know how he was. Damn bleedin' heart, class A softy when it comes ta kids."

"Kids?" Savannah's eyes narrowed. "What kids?"

"Shit, we was with a whole damn group up by the old reservoir, Frenchie. Must a been at least twenty-five, maybe thirty a us livin' up there. 'Bout ten snot-faced little shits runnin' 'round everywhere, always gettin' under foot."

Savannah frowned. "Why de hell ya stayin' wid a group? You ain't exactly de friendly type, you," She added, pushing off the counter, and sitting down across from him.

Merle grunted as he started bouncing his foot up and down on the floor, and Savannah smiled as she heard the tap-tap-tap noise, the old familiar habit a comforting one.

"Daryl. Damn fool spun some shit 'bout bein' safer in a group, like we didn't both know that was a crock a horse shit. But ya know how he gets when he sets his mind ta somethin'. Ain't no movin' him."

Savannah chuckled. "Oui. Always was a stubborn little shit, him was. Must run in de famillle, non? So… dis group. Daryl in trouble, him?"

She didn't miss the flash of worry in Merle's eyes, before he shrugged, and put a playful smile on his face. "Hell, ya know Daryl; he'll be fine. Kid knows ta keep his head down, an' ride it out. But I figured… maybe tomorrow mornin', we head up to the reservoir, see if we spot him. They don't know you, so you's can go in, find Daryl, an' get him outta there."

Savannah sighed. "Oui, guess ol' chere can do that for you. Maybe rough up dat cop who lock you on dat roof while Ah'm there."

"No!" Merle snapped, surprising her. "Ya find Daryl, an' ya get him out, ya hear? That's it. Ain't gonna have a damn blood bath with Daryl an' those kids there."

"Didn't say was gon' kill him, non," Savannah grumbled. "Jus' said maybe get ol' Merle some good ol' fashion vengeance. Ain't right, handcuffin' a man to de roof like dat. T'ough, preddy sure you probably do some'tin to deserve it, you did. Still, ain't right."

"Don't gotta tell me, Frenchie," Merle said darkly. "But I done seen your idea a 'payback'. An' I ain't gonna have it, not while Daryl's still there. I'll get Officer Friendly, and I'll take his leg for what he did, but I ain't riskin' Daryl."

* * *

"What's yer name?"

Savannah was surprised when she heard Daryl's raspy voice from across the room.

"What you doing still awake, honey chile?" She asked, forcing a soft smile to her face as she turned. "_Petit garcons_ like you need to be 'sleep."

"Sorry," He said quickly, turning over on the bed to face the wall.

She bit her lip as she sat down, turning him to face her, and running her hand through his hair. "Non, you ain't in trouble, _boug_," She said quietly. "What you still doin' up? You scared?"

"N-n-no. Jus'… I'm hungry."

"You hungry? _Mais_, we can't have dat now, can we? What you want, huh? Ol' Frenchie's treat. You name it, an' we'll go get it." Savannah frowned worriedly as the kid shot up, wincing a little, and holding one hand to his head as he swayed a bit. "You alright dere, honey chile?"

"M'fine. Jus' ain't eaten in a while," The boy mumbled, reaching for his clothes on the other side of the bed, and pulling them on slowly.

"When de last time you eat, you?" Savannah asked as she helped him into his shirt.

"Had a bag of cheetos at school on Tuesday, 'fore Pop locked me in the basement," Daryl said after thinking for a minute. "An' he threw me down some crackers after a few days."

Savannah flinched at the completely normal way the boy said it, like it was no big deal. Although, thinking back to what Merle had said, maybe it was a normal thing.

"_Mais_, you must be preddy damn hungry den, you, _non_?" She forced herself to say, trying to keep her voice as light as she could as she helped him tie his shoes. "What you in de mood for?"

Daryl's brow wrinkled as he thought, tilting his head a bit. "Maybe… maybe burgers?"

"Sounds good to ol' Frenchie. You know where we go to get good burgers 'round here?" She asked with a laugh as they left the room, her guiding him towards her jeep with a hand on his shoulder.

"Uh… yeah, there's a diner further in town. Ya get back on the highway, an' go down an exit, an' then take a left. It's right on the main road."

"Alright den. Let's go get us some burgers, _oui_?"

Daryl gave her a grin, and even though she didn't know why, his happy, excited face was almost more heart-breaking than anything she'd heard yet. That he could be so excited about some freaking burgers.

"What 'bout Merle?"

Savannah forced herself to smile at the boy as she turned the key, and started the engine. "Don' you worry 'bout it none, you. You brudder just… he just need some time to t'ink, him. He gon' be here when we get back, oui?"

"You's lyin'," The boy said quietly. "He's mad at me, I know he is. He always says that… That I need ta stand up ta Pop. 'Fore he left… He tol' me I need ta start fightin' back; he said that's why Pop don't go after him no more, 'cause he fights back."

"Boo… I don' know… Look, Merle ain't mad at you. Him just trying to figure out what he gon' do to keep you pere from hurtin' you more. He just need some time to t'ink, him."

"You think I'm a pussy?"

"Why you say such t'ings 'bout ol' _chere_, you? Ah don' t'ink any such t'ing, me," She said firmly, keeping her eyes on the road as she merged onto the highway. "You jus' a _petit_ _boug_, you. Can't fight back 'gainst an adult, you can't. Look… Ol' Frenchie had some s'perience wid bullies, her. Sometimes you can fight dem, but odder times… All you can do is pick you self up, brush off de dirt, an' move on. Win some, lose some, you know? Dat don' make you a pussy."

"That's not what Merle says. He says only pussies don't fight back. But… When I do, Pop gets… He… It jus' don't end well," He finished quietly, staring out the window.

Well, _merde_, she thought, pulling onto the exit. That was a tough situation, and no mistake. She knew she had to tread carefully. Outright tell him that Merle was wrong, and – if Daryl was anything like her siblings – he'd close off completely. But tell him Merle was right…

"Daryl… No _garcon_ should have to go t'rough what your _pere_ do to you. Ain't right. Ain't no 'right', no 'wrong'. What works for Merle… Well, you brudder is lot bigger den you. You still small. Hard to fight back when someone bigger den you hurts you. But what you _pere_ do to you… It ain't you fault. Hey!" She snapped good-naturedly, but allowing a small edge to creep into her voice when she glanced over at him. "Don' you roll you eyes at ol' Frenchie."

"Is that yer real name? 'Frenchie'?"

She sighed as she shut the jeep off. "Savannah. My name's Savannah."


	9. Damn Good Questions

A/N: Alrighty folks... So I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. As per usual with my stories, I had no clear goal, or long-term plot line when I sat down to write this, just a nagging little muse, and deviant little plot bunnies. So if there's anything specific you'd like to see, or any ideas (long or short term) for chapters, or plot lines, please feel free to suggest, because as of right now, I've only thought this ahead enough to get them to Savannah's home, and a few ideas for what will happen when they get there. As always, thanks for reading, and special thank you's to those of you who've reviewed. FEED THE PLOT BUNNIES! : )

* * *

"So you t'ink you ready to be travelin' 'gain, you?"

Merle grunted as he looked up at Savannah, who was standing in the doorway, a Cheshire-cat grin on her face.

"I'm as good as I'm ever gonna be," He growled, glaring at her.

"Ol' chere a 'lil curious, cher: just how you plan on tyin' you boots, hmm?"

"Ain't figured that out yet. Don't ya have somebody's dog ta go cook?"

She shook her head as she knelt in front of his feet, her thin little fingers quickly lacing up his boots as she sighed. "Ah tellin' you, cher: you non ready yet. Still need few days for healin', you do."

"What do I gotta do ta prove it to ya, Frenchie? Kick yer ass a few times? 'Cause that's what I'm gonna do if ya don't shut yer mouth."

She gave him a sly smile as she stood, folding her arms across her chest. "Any time you t'ink you ready, cher, ol' Frenchie kick you ass all 'round dis place, her will."

* * *

"Now you just go 'head, an' you order whatever you want, you," Savannah said firmly as they slid into a booth in the old diner. "Ol' Frenchie's treat."

"Can I get a milkshake?"

"I tol' you, boug: any'tin you want." She smiled as his big blue eyes lit up, practically dancing for joy. "You got you brudder's eyes, you do. Very preddy eyes, dem."

"What, ya sayin' Merle's pretty?"

Savannah mock-frowned at him. "Oh, you gon' make de miserie for ol' chere, you are." She stopped as the waitress walked up to them, pen held expectantly over her pad. "I'll have de burger wid cheese, onions, peppers, an' tomatoes, an' a coke."

"Alright. An' how 'bout you, son?"

Daryl looked at her hesitantly, before asking, "Can I get a burger, with mayonnaise, ketchup, an' pickles? An' a chocolate milkshake?"

"Two burgers, a coke, an' a milkshake, comin' right up."

"So what grade you in, boug?" Savannah asked as the waitress wandered off.

"Fourth. I got held back last year. Merle was real pissed 'bout it; said Mrs. Bradshaw only held me back 'cause she was still pissed 'bout him stealin' her car a few years ago. Him an' Pop had a real big fight 'bout it. Pop said it was jus' 'cause I was stupid, an' Merle got real mad at him."

"Did you an' your 'Pop' have a fight too?"

She didn't miss the shudder, the slight wince right before he shrugged. "Weren't nothin'. So where you from anyways? Ain't never heard somebody talk like you before."

"What, you ain't never met a Cajun 'fore, you? From Louisiana, Ah am. De Bayous."

"You an' Merle sleepin' together?"

The shock on her face was real as she sat back in the booth, a small frown on her face. "Non. An' you too young to be t'inkin' 'bout t'ings like dat, you is. You shouldn't even know what dat is, non."

"Why not? You's pretty. Don't ya like men? Or you a lesbian?"

* * *

Instantly, Daryl regretted his words. Even though he hadn't meant to offend Savannah, she looked really, really pissed as she leaned forward, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"S'cuse me? How 'bout you shut you damn mout', you, 'fore Ah decide you don't really need dat burger, hmm?" She said quietly.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean nothin' by it, I swear! I'm sorry!" He said quickly, huddling back in the seat, praying that she wouldn't follow through with her threat. "I didn't mean nothin'."

He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman sat back again, a small smile on her face, almost kinda sad.

"I know you didn't, you. But dat ain't de way ta talk ta a fille, non. Ain't t'ings you ask in public. Hell, ain't t'ings _petit_ _garcons_ like you should ever ask, but 'specially not in public, oui?"

"A'ight. I said I'm sorry. I won't say nothin' no more, promise."

Merle always said that Daryl's biggest problem was that he never knew when to shut his damn mouth. But Daryl just didn't understand why Savannah had gotten so mad; wasn't like he'd said anything mean; hell, he'd just asked her a simple question.

And a damn good question too. Women were always falling all over Merle, like fleas on an old dog; ever since Merle had started middle school, he'd brought girls home, sometimes three or four a week. Daryl wasn't sure why, although Pop had always acted like it was to be expected. Acted like it was some kind of great thing, always chuckling and slapping Merle on the back. Was probably the only time Daryl ever saw Pop happy with his older brother, whenever Merle showed up with a girl, always smiling, and congratulating him like he'd won something.

"Hey, ol' Frenchie didn't mean you couldn't talk at all. What you like in school, huh?"

Daryl frowned, but kept his mouth closed, wrapping his arms around his waist as he glanced towards the kitchen, wondering where the hell the damn waitress was with his food.

* * *

Savannah sighed, knowing she'd screwed up as Daryl curled in on himself, all signs of the easy-going kid who was excited to have a burger gone. He'd shoved himself into the corner of the booth, and was watching her warily, blue eyes filled with suspicion.

"So… what? Now you non gon' talk to ol' Frenchie no more?"


	10. Too Bad

A/N: Alright, so firstly this chapter goes out to Endoh Misaki; here is more Merle, just like I've been promising lol. Also because the latest chapter of her AWESOME story _The Bad, The Ugly, And The Dixons_, sort of, kind of inspired this in a weird way. Y'all should definitely go check that out if you haven't already. As always, thanks for reading, special thanks for reviewing. : )

* * *

Merle hadn't really thought about where he was going when he stomped off. He'd just... left. Needed air, or some stupid shit like that. Just needed some damn space to breath, to try and figure out how the hell he was gonna figure his way out of the mess he found himself in. Needed to get away from Savannah before he said something stupid that he'd have regretted later. Hadn't had a destination, other than 'away'.

So he was a little surprised when he found himself staring at his house. The house he'd grown up in. The house his mama had died in.

The house him and Daryl had spent their entire lives being tortured in.

He couldn't bring himself to take the few steps that would put him on the porch. The few feet that would put him inside the door.

The old man was passed out somewhere inside, laying in his own piss and puke. No 'maybe', or 'probably' about it; he'd seen it just about every night of his damn life before he'd left for boot camp. He'd be laying somewhere on the floor, surrounded by beer cans and whiskey bottles, stinking like a swamp in June. Maybe he'd have made his way into the kitchen, or the bathroom; more likely, he'd passed out in the front hallway.

Somewhere inside that fucking house.

How many nights had he spent locked in that damn basement? How many nights had him and Daryl gone hungry in that fucking basement, locked in, and forgotten after their parents passed out? How many nights had he laid awake, listening to the screams, and the fights, the crashing and stumbling from downstairs?

His frown deepened. How many years had it been since his mother had died? Passed out drunk with a cigarette in her mouth while he was locked up in juvie?

Daryl had just started school, he remembered that. He'd missed his little brother's first day of school because of his sentencing hearing. So had to be about five years. Maybe closer to six. Not that it really mattered any; wasn't like life had been any better before she'd died.

The stupid little _bitch_. She'd always whined and cried about how hard life was, how much hell him and Daryl had given her, how Harold and the boys had ruined her damn life.

Like she hadn't turned right around and ruined his and Daryl's life right back. Annie Dixon had been just as like to smack her boys around as Harold was. Until he'd gotten bigger than her, Merle had been more wary of Annie's hair-trigger temper, her outbursts of rage than he had of his father.

His hand went up to his still-nearly bald head, feeling at the long scar that ran from the back of his ear to the back of his head, stopping just above his hairline. He'd gotten that courtesy of a plate she'd cracked over his skull when he was twelve.

All because he hadn't been able to stop Daryl from crying quick enough. Like it was Merle's damn fault they didn't have anything to eat in the whole fucking house. He'd tried walking him, tried playing peek-a-boo... Hell, he'd been just about desperate enough to try singing when he'd caught sight of Annie out of the corner of his eye.

He'd still been holding his little brother, his efforts to shush him turning frantic, when he felt the dish connect with his head.

He wasn't sure how long he'd blacked out for. When he'd come to, Daryl had been squirming underneath him, still screeching bloody murder, both of them coated in Merle's blood. Annie was gone, apparently choosing to leave over listening to Daryl, leaving Merle to clean them both up. Clean up the kitchen floor after he'd managed to get Daryl to sleep. Crawl onto the small twin mattress he shared with his little brother, head still bleeding, praying to God he wouldn't wake up the next morning.

One of many _fond_ memories, he thought darkly, still glaring at the house. Too bad the whole damn thing hadn't burnt down to ash along with Annie.

Too bad Pop hadn't been in there, passed out beside her on the bed.

And sometimes... Sometimes, he briefly thought that it was too bad he and Daryl hadn't been locked in the basement. That they hadn't burnt down to nothing along with the whore who'd given birth to them, and then thrown them to the wolves.

* * *

It was pushing on three o'clock when Savannah heard the door open.

Daryl hadn't spoken to her the rest of the night, although that hadn't stopped him from curling up next to her on the bed, falling asleep on her arm.

She hadn't been able to sleep. She'd tried telling herself that it was the cartoons still flashing across the old TV set, but she knew even if she shut the damn thing off, she wouldn't have gotten any sleep.

"How's he doin'?"

She shrugged up at Merle, who stared down at her bleary-eyed, his face carefully blank.

"Fell 'sleep after we came back from de diner. Went an' got few burgers, we did. Didn't 'tink ta bring you back some'tin dough; sorry."

"S'fine. I jus' had ta go an' clear my head, ya know?"

She opened her mouth to say something, when Daryl shifted beside her, a small frown crossing his face in his sleep. Almost without thinking, her hand moved to his head, brushing his long, dark hair off of his face, before turning back to Merle.

"So what's de plan, huh?" She asked quietly, watching as Merle collapsed on the other bed, scrubbing at his face with both hands, looking far older than his twenty-one years.

"Guess I'm gonna have to learn to speak French," Came the muttered reply.

She ducked her head, careful not to let him see her smile as she pulled Daryl a little closer to her, closing her eyes, the exhaustion of the long day finally catching up to her.


	11. Reunion

A/N: Alrighty folks! So this chapter is... well, sort of filler, but important filler if that makes any sense lol. Next one will probably jump back to the future, although I'm not quite sure yet. Special shout-outs to Endoh Misaki for helping me bounce ideas around far into the wee hours of the night lol. Merle's a complicated character to try and pin down, and she dealt with far more BS rambling from me than she should have lol. But thanks to everyone who's read, and special thanks to those of you who've reviewed.

* * *

Merle sighed, stretching his legs as he steps out of the jeep. Ten hours locked in a vehicle with Daryl bouncing off the damn walls every step of the way, and Frenchie blathering on back to him, encouraging the damn brat.

Although he'd kept the grumbling to a minimum. Even though it annoyed the tar out of him, listening to the kid prattle on with questions –non-stop fucking questions, a new one every mile it seemed – it'd been nice to see his baby brother actually acting like a kid. Like every other kid in America who wasn't afraid to death of being whooped on.

So he'd been careful to keep his grumbling light, with only an occasional eye roll when Daryl would ask something extra stupid.

But it was all over. Finally.

Although, as he glanced around, he noticed that there weren't any houses in sight, unless...

"You live in a damn boat shop, Frenchie?" He asked, the building offering 'Cheap Boat Rentals' being the only structure close by.

She snorted as she walked down onto the docks. "Non; mah _famille_ ain't dat poor. C'mon," She said impatiently, throwing her's and Daryl's bag – a small backpack they'd bought at Wal-Mart, and filled with clothes from the same store – into a small...

"No fuckin' way, Frenchie," Merle snapped, taking a step back towards the jeep. "I ain't gettin' no damn canoe."

"De only way to mah house, _cher_. An' it's non a canoe; is a _pirogue_. Now c'mon; ain't got all day waitin' on you. Ol' chere wants to see her famille, she does. So get you fat ass in de pirogue."

"Merle don't like boats," Daryl piped in, and Merle glared at his little brother, silently damning the brat to hell as the little pipsqueak clambered onto the small canoe, settling himself in the front of the damn thing.

"Oh for de love o'... I growed up in dis damn boat, cher; perfectly safe, Ah promise."

"Yeah, 'cause the thought a you bein' responsible for me bein' safe is such a comfortin' one, Frenchie," Merle snorted, still not moving towards the boat. "There's gotta be 'nother way."

"Oh, oui, dere is. You can circle back 'round to County Route 9, and hike de twenty miles t'rough de woods, and de swamp. But even I get los' sometimes out dere; probably never even find you body, non we won't," She said with a grin, staring at him expectantly.

"C'mon, Merle!" Daryl said impatiently. "Savannah said her mom's makin' a really good dinner for when we get there!"

"S'jus' a boat, cher."

"Fine!" Merle snapped, moving down the dock, and cautiously getting into the boat. "But I swear ta God, Frenchie, you tip this damn boat, I'm gonna haunt ya fer the rest a yer goddamn life, ya hear?"

"Lighten up, you bebe," Savannah said, rolling her eyes as she untied the boat, and pushed off into the swamp. "Ain't nothin' gon' happen with ol' Frenchie here. Ya know, my brudder an' me, we used to take de city-slickers out on tours in de swamp, we did. Made some good money, us."

"Why don't ya quit chatterin', an' focus on makin' this damn thing go, huh?"

* * *

Savannah didn't miss Merle's sigh of relief as she pulled the pirogue up to the rickety wooden dock in front of her home, but it was only in an abstract sort of way, the excitement of seeing the trailer she'd grown up in. Seen the additions her father and her brothers had added on, just so they'd have enough bedrooms.

She could barely force herself to wait by the boat for Daryl –and slightly more unsteadily –Merle to climb out of the boat, before she bolted up towards the house.

"Maman! Maw maw! Paw paw!" She called excitedly, running up to the door.

She didn't make it, before a swarm of children bolted out of the house, knocking her over, all of them talking loudly, climbing all over her.

"Ah, mon dieu, but Savannah missed you brats, her did!" She said happily, wrapping Adelphe in her arms, as Odette threw her arms around her neck, as the twins –Julien and Justine –began rummaging through her pockets, looking for candy. "Alright, boos, dat's 'nough oudda you. Get out of dere!" She laughed, finally struggling to her feet. "Sissy brought guests, her did. Come on, you little demons. Merle, Daryl, dese are four o' mah nine brudders and sisters. Dis is Adelphe, Odette, an' dese two peeshwanks is P'tit Julie, and Justine."

She sighed sadly when she seen Daryl staring around Merle's side, practically hiding behind his big brother, his big blue eyes wider than usual.

"Uh… Adelphe, why don' you take Daryl 'round back, show him de animals, hm?"

Merle hesitated for just a second, before giving Daryl a nudge towards Adelphe, who was already moving towards the back of the house, babbling on in French.

"English, boug! He don' speak French yet, him don't!" She called after him. "C'mon, Merle. See if maybe mah pere is home yet, him. Julie, come on, mon ami, get off mah leg, you. Go find Maman, hm? Go on! Get! Go wid him, Justine, make sure him non get lost."

Merle chuckled a bit as the two curly, blonde four year olds ran back into the house, yelling loudly.

"Jesus, Frenchie, an' I thought Daryl was a handful. Can't imagine havin' nine a these little brats runnin' 'round."

"Well, Remy and Marc are older den me."

"So there's ten a ya. You, an'… Odette an' Justine, right? You three the only girls?" He asked as they started towards the house.

"Oui. Odette's seven, an' de twins are four. But don' worry, Adelphe an' Olivier –wherever de hell he's gotten to – dey only a year or two older den Daryl. Dey'll keep an eye on dem, dey will. Make sure no'tin bad hap –"

"Oh, mon bebe! Jean! Jean, Savannah's home! Mon Dieu, mah p'tit bebe!"

Savannah was nearly bowled over again as her mother's fiery red hair appeared in the doorway, and she could hardly breath.

"Maman! Is daddy home?"

"Oui, oui! We been waitin' for you, we have! Him put off leavin' for 'nudder week, him did! Oh, bebe, is so good to have you home! Oh! You brough' guests, you did, boo! Who dis be?"

"Uh… Maman, dis is mah friend, Merle. Um… Paw Paw met him at de graduation, him did, but… t'ings were so hectic, dem were, just kind o' forgot to introduce him. So um… Maman, dis is Merle. Merle, dis is my mama, Odalia. Mos' people just call her Odi 'round here."

"Where she be? Where's my liddle girl?"

"Daddy!"

Shit. Merle seriously wished the ground would open up, and swallow him whole as he watched Savannah and her father hug, the tall, bear of a man wrapping his arms around her, and swinging her around.

"Oh, Savannah, we missed choo some'tin fierce, we did," The man said happily, before his gaze fell on Merle. "Chere, who dis?"

"Uh… Hi. I'm uh… I'm Merle. Merle Dixon," Merle said nervously, holding his hand out nervously. "I'm um… I'm with Savannah's unit."

"Jean. Jean Lantier," Jean said quietly, before turning back to his daughter, and speaking in rapid-fire French. While Merle might not have understood the words, he'd seen the look Jean was giving him before, and Savannah's eye roll spoke volumes as they went back and forth for a few minutes.

"Oh, choo stop it, Jean-Pierre!" Savannah's mama finally cut in, shoving in between the two, and giving Merle a smile. "Any friend o' Savannah's welcome here. Savannah say… Choo brudder here too?"

"Uh… Uh, yes, ma'am. Savannah sent him outback with… Um… Adolph?"

"Adolphe," Savannah laughed. "C'mon; let's go see what maman and Maw Maw got cookin', hm?"


	12. Long Road

A/N: Alright so... Yay for longer chapter than usual! First part is past timeline, second part is present timeline. I know I said this chapter would probably be all present time, but it just didn't work out that way. Thank you so much to all of my reviewers, it's awesome to know that there are other people out there who like Merle lol. I'm not sure when I'll be updating this again, but it probably won't be until Wednesday at the earliest, since I've got a busy busy week ahead of me lol. Thanks for reading, special thanks for reviewing, and enjoy. : )

* * *

Feeling more than a little nervous, Merle followed Savannah into the house, hearing her parents whispering in French behind him.

"Thought you said they knew I was comin'," He muttered, glancing around the trailer – which was actually two single-wide trailers shoved together, with a few additions added on from what he'd seen outside.

"Jus' said was bringin' a friend from boot camp, Ah did. Don' you worry, cher; mah _pere_, he jus' liddle... protective 'bout his _bebe_ girl, him is. Him come 'round, him will. Come on, want you to meet Maw Maw," Savannah said impatiently, leading him towards the back. "Jus' 'member... You wanna be _real_ polite to her, you do," She added with a grin, as she shoved a blanket aside, and pushed Merle into a small room.

It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room, lit only by candles as it was. When he could finally see, he started backing up, nearly running Savannah over.

"What the fuck?!" He said quietly, staring at the small skulls, candles, and other various forms of nature tied to the ceiling. A small woman, darker skinned than Savannah sat behind a small table, grinding something with a mortar and pestle, glancing up at Merle and Savannah questioningly.

"Maw Maw is our hoodoo woman. What you would call... Um... Medicine woman? She also read de cards," Savannah whispered back, before pushing him farther into the room, and moving around him to drop down next to the older woman, giving her a large hug.

Almost immediately, the woman hugged her back, babbling on in something that sounded almost like French, but rougher, and with a thicker accent. Savannah replied back, and the two went on for a few minutes, before Merle cleared his throat.

"Oh! Sorry, cher... Maw Maw, dis be mah good friend Merle. Merle, dis be my... _gran-mere._ You can call her Miz Liz. S'what mos' de folks 'round here call her."

Merle took a cautious step forward, reaching his hand out. "Um... Nice to meet you... Miz Liz," He said thickly, as the woman grabbed his palm, flipping it over, and staring at it intently for a few minutes, before fixing him with an intent stare.

"Mah Savannah, she tell me that choo is goo' man, choo is. But Miz Liz, she see all. Wridden on choo palm. Wridden in choo face. Choo got de long road 'head, choo do. An' Miz Liz... _Mais_, she check de cards, her will, bu' she don' see de happy endin' choo wan' in choo palm, her don'."

"Maw Maw! Don' be scarin' him off now, him jus' got here, him did!" Savannah said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. "What you doin' back here anyways? Maman say you was helpin' her make good dinner."

Miz Liz held his stare for a few more seconds, before releasing his hand, and giving her granddaughter a smile. "Oui, ol' Maw Maw make choo fine dinner, her did. Made choo favorite. Made 'nough for dis big man, an' his liddle brudder," She said with a knowing look.

Savannah laughed as the small woman swept out of the room, Merle's face one of shock.

"Tol' you," She said, spinning him around, and pushing him back out of the room. "Maw Maw sees it all, her does. People, dey come all de way from New Orleans to get dey palms read, or dey future tol' by Miz Liz."

Merle grunted as they walked back down the hallway. "She's creepy, is what she is," He snorted. "Jus' what the hell that supposed ta mean? 'Happy ending I want'?"

Savannah shrugged. "Don' know. She don' know probably. She jus' sees t'ings. She don' 'splain dem, her don'. Now c'mon; you in for surprise, you is. Real Cajun food, bes' food known to man, it is."

Merle chuckled, swinging an arm up over her shoulder. "Do I wanna know what's in it?"

"Prob'ly bedder _non_ to ask," She said with a grin.

* * *

"Maman, where be Remy an' Marc, hm?" Savannah asked loudly to be heard over the noise of the children running around, hooting and hollering like banshees from hell as they darted to and fro around the large picnic table outside.

"Not now, _bebe_. Lader," Her mother said with that look, before turning back to the large spit, giving it a slow turn. "Get choo maman de seasonin', hm? Choo still 'member how to season de _porc_?"

Savannah rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bowl off the small table next to the spit, and started throwing it on the pig's belly. "Only gone for t'ree months, maman. You act like Ah been gone for t'ree years."

"Oh, _bebe_, choo know you maman jus' miss choo some'tin fierce, her di – _Hè_! Alcide! Sebastion! Ge' 'way from dem pies!"

Savannah chuckled as the two oldest boys at home pulled their hands away from the apple pies quickly, shoving their hands in their pockets, looking at their mother with an innocent expression.

But her smile quickly turned to a frown when she spotted Daryl sitting under the large oak tree, staring at the chaos with wide eyes. She glanced around for Merle, who was laughing as he talked with her Paw Paw – _two peas in a pod, dem two_, she thought – before heading over to Daryl.

"Hey dere, boo; what's wrong, hm?" She asked quietly, dropping to her haunches beside him.

He chewed on his lip for a minute, before he finally looked up at her, his voice unsure as he spoke.

"S'too loud. Ain't used to... to havin' this many people 'round, ya know? An' I don't understand half a what anybody's sayin'."

"Dat so, _boug_? _Mais_, ol' chere tell you what we gon' do 'bout dat. Odette!" She called loudly, trying to grab the little girl's attention. " _Hè_! Odette! Get you butt over here, you!"

The little red-haired girl – the only other red-head other than Savannah and their maman – dashed over, leaving her brothers behind.

"_Oui_?"

"Daryl, dis here is Odette. She speak good English, her does, don' you, Odette?"

"Oh, yes!" Odette said happily, dropping down, and sitting Indian-style next to Daryl. "Got de best grades in our school, I do!"

"So Odette, her gon' teach you some Cajun, her is, ain't dat right, _chere_?"

"Sure! Come on out back wid me, I start wid de animals, _oui_?" Odette rambled, bouncing back to her feet, and pulling Daryl up with her. "Gon' be fun, dis is! I help Miss Bouredoux teach all de liddle kids in school, I do! I teach you de animals first, den teach you some games, so you can play wid all of us, yes?"

Savannah chuckled again as the little girl practically dragged Daryl around back of the house towards the animal pens, knowing that Odette could talk a mile a minute in French and English. Hopefully Daryl would be a bit more comfortable with a girl a bit younger than him than he had been with her brothers.

* * *

Savannah rolled her neck from side to side, until it popped as she stared Merle down. They both stood in the front yard, a few feet away from the porch.

"_Mais_... Come on, you," She said cheekily. "Don' got all day, Ah don'."

Merle grunted, giving her a grin back. "Anytime you's ready, Frenchie."

She knew better than that. During boot camp, Merle had always been the best when it came to hand-to-hand combat, using a mixture of brute strength, and agility that seemed near impossible for a man his size.

He took a step towards her, and a bit to the right, a move she mirrored, always careful to keep her eyes on his hands and feet.

"We gonna dance all day, Frenchie? We's doin' this for you, least you could do is get on with it."

"You still talk a lot o' _merde_, _cher_," Savannah replied lazily, before striking out with a left-handed jab.

Merle laughed, tilting to the side just enough that she could feel her knuckles graze his shirt, as he brought his elbow down, catching the inside of her elbow, and forcing her arm down. She responded by taking a step forward, bringing her knee up to try and catch his thigh, but he darted to the side again, coming up behind her.

She lashed out with her right leg, catching him in his stomach, hearing a satisfying 'oomph' as her foot connected. She was careful to keep her strikes controlled, and at only half-strength as she spun, and landed another blow on his shoulder.

And then she seen stars as his fist collided with her head, nearly knocking her off her feet, seconds before another punch caught her in the middle of her back, sending her crashing to the ground.

"Wow, Frenchie... They let you have your own squad, fightin' like that?" Merle said mockingly, laughing from a few feet away. "Damn, girly, you got sloppy!"

"Was tryin' to take it easy on you, you _salaud_," Savannah said grimly, pushing herself back to her feet with a shake of her head. "Ain't gon' make dat mistake 'gain," She grunted, grabbing a hold of Merle's good hand, and pulling his arm up behind his back.

"Shouldn't a made it the first damn time," Merle shot back, hooking his left leg behind her knee, and using his legs and back to lift her off the ground, and shove her up over his back, slamming her into the ground.

But she grabbed his shoulder as she hit, dragging him down with her, and he collapsed on her, before pinning both her hands above her head with his good hand.

"Ooh, this brings back some memories, huh?" He said with a grin, his nose touching hers.

"Alright, alright. You was right, cher... You still one tough ol' _salaud_, you is," She said, rolling her eyes as he slid off her. "Let's go find you brudder."


	13. Readings

A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a little bit different than usual, but… well… I wanted to do it, and I think it fits in. Since I don't intend on staying with Savannah's family too much longer, it seems like the good place to put it. Thank you so much for all the reviews. They make my day. : ) Sorry for the slight awkwardness, and general blockiness, but it's three in the morning, and I should have been asleep hours ago lol.

P.S. I do not speak French. Again, I picked up bits and pieces of Cajun from friends, but I wasn't even going to attempt to write Savannah's family's perspectives' in French. So… pretend with me, please?

* * *

"I don' like it, Odi. Her bringin' back a Texian boug. Ain't right, Odi, non."

Odalia sighed as she sat down next to her husband of almost twenty-five years. "Jean, she's a big girl, her is. An' that young boug, him seem like a nice boug, him does."

"But it ain't right! Havin' him here, bot' a dem sleepin' in de livin' room to'gedder."

"Dey's non sleepin' to'gedder, Jean-Pierre! Him's on the couch, de liddle boug is in Adelphe's sleepin' bag, and Vanna's in de chair."

Jean glared as they both laid down. "Him seem… rough, dat boug do. Like him have a… a violen' streak. Some'tin off 'bout him. An' you see how dat liddle boug jump e'ery time somebody look at him? How him eat his food like a starvin' dog? Some'tin ain't right 'bout dem bougs," He said insistently, wrapping his arms around his wife, and nuzzling his face into her neck.

"Oui, I did see dat, I did. An' I talked 'bout it wid Vanna. Her said… Dey pere, he ain't a nice man, him ain't. Said de salaud, him locked dat liddle boug in deir basement for almos' a week, him did," Odalia said quietly. "She also say, Merle be takin' care o' his brudder for years. So Ah willin' to give him benefit o' de doubt, hm?"

"Him half in love wid moi bebe, Odi. Don' tell me you don' see it. An' her ain't feelin' much differen', non, she jus' too damn stupid in de ways a men ta know it."

* * *

Antoine Lantier eased his creaking bones into his bed, stretching his leg out uncomfortably.

It'd been an interesting day, that was for sure. And he'd spent far longer than he should have sitting in that wooden lawn chair, talking to that young man.

For a while, he'd almost felt like a young man himself. Of course, there'd been a slight difficulty in communicating at first; Antoine hadn't spoken much English since he'd retired from the boat tours a few years ago, and Merle's French seemed to be limited to cusswords he'd picked up from Savannah.

But they'd made it work, somehow. And Antoine had enjoyed himself more than he had since Annie had passed –God rest her soul, she'd died the night before their fortieth anniversary. And since then, he'd forgotten that he'd had once been a young man, with hopes and dreams. And while he loved his son and his wife, and adored his grandchildren, it had been nice to talk to Merle. Jean-Pierre 'didn't approve' of his father talking about his war stories. Said it wasn't 'appropriate' talk for children to hear.

But Merle… The young man had practically eaten his stories up, laughing and chuckling at the funny stories, sober and understanding at the serious ones. He'd listened to Antoine's warnings and advice about serving, asking all the right questions at the right times.

Then they'd chuckled over boyhood stories of hunting, fishing, and camping expeditions, talking about the biggest bucks, the biggest fish, and the biggest bears. Compared notes on the best techniques and equipment to use, which had quickly turned into quizzing each other.

And even though his joints ached, and his bones popped, he couldn't even feel the smallest smidgen of regret.

He only hoped that maybe his oldest granddaughter had picked up on the fact that the young man was head-over-heels in love with her.

* * *

Miz Liz frowned at the cards on the table.

Usually, she didn't even do 'real' readings for people. Spin some nonsense, 'you husband love you deeply, him does' to the newly wed wife, 'good fortune, I see' to the young man wearing rags… It wasn't worth the time or the energy for the simpletons she usually saw. But every once in a while, someone would come along who would interest her enough to actually use her magic.

And something about the young man her granddaughter had brought home had intrigued her. So many things she'd read on his palm. Happy starts, and poor endings. His face had been more of the same, but with more intensity. It was rare for her to see that sort of intensity these days, especially on someone with so few years.

But staring down at the cards in front of her, she was beginning to remember why she didn't do readings for family. Why she did one reading at birth, and never again let her magic touch her family.

_Love. Happiness. Family_. An early start, and new beginnings with the Chariot and the Five of Wands, a card pair she'd long associated with her oldest granddaughter.

_Betrayal, absence, heart-break._

She'd felt a bit of relief at the next set of cards in the Court. _Reunion, joyfulness, friendship._

_Love again._

But her relief had turned to agony when the Chariot and the Five had reappeared, and the cards had turned up dark again.

_Betrayal, anger, agony_.

_Loneliness. Deep, unending loneliness. And heart-ache._ All tied to the Chariot and the Five.

Reaching deep within her magic, she searched for deeper meanings.

"_What do you wan' me ta do?"_

"_Yer choice."_

"_She's gone, Merle. Don't think she's comin' back this time."_

"_She'll be back. She always comes back."_

"_I ain't staying, cher."_

"_An' I ain't leavin'."_

"_You find a good woman, boy, you don't never let her go. 'Cause one day, she won't come back for yer sorry ass."_

"_Was a long time ago, it was. Don' matter none now."_

She gasped as the visions faded. They'd been quick flashes, like lightning strikes. But they'd been so _clear_ in those few seconds. Whatever –or whenever –they'd been, they'd been set in stone. No fuzzy outlines, no shaking figures… What was going to happen was going to happen.

There was no changing it.

* * *

PPS: I do not read Tarot cards; I have no knowledge of how to use them, or their meanings other than the quick two minute search I did to find cards to match Savannah's personality.


	14. Gators and Fences

A/N: Alright, so I know the last chapter was a little... odd, to say the least, but I really did want to have one chapter from 'other POVS', besides for Merle/Savannah/Daryl. Now, that being said, it probably would have been better if I'd actually taken the time to proof-read before posting. Eh. But as far as this chapter... It's not blocky, but it is a little... well, a step in a different direction. Like I said before, I recently came up with the story line for this, like how I want it to end and everything, which is going to create some continuity errors from the first few chapters. But I'm way too lazy to go back and edit and rewrite everything so... yeah lol. After this chapter, there will be one final (hopefully fairly long) chapter of them being with Savannah's family, and the whole family plus Merle and Daryl taking Savannah to the airport. Just to give you an idea of where this is going. Oh, and special shout-out to Brazen Hussy for her last review about Maw Maw and not seeing the end of the world... I literally spit soda all over my desk laughing at that one. As always, thanks for reading, thanks for reviewing, and enjoy. : )

* * *

"You said dey by de ol' reservoir, _oui_?" Savannah asked, throwing her knapsack in the back of the little Ford Ranger she'd picked up a few miles outside of Atlanta.

"Last I knew, yeah. You said we're 'bout an hour south a the city, right?" Merle asked absently, running one finger over the map on the hood.

"_Oui_, we's... dere," She said after staring at the map for a moment, pointing to a spot a few miles west of Senoia. "If dey's still dere, shouldn't take us more den t'ree or four _heures_, if we stick to de back roads, and by-pass de city."

"Why not jump on 85, then hook up onto the 285 bypass?" Merle suggested, trailing a finger over the route he'd proposed. "That'll hit up with 20, an' take us all the way to Lithia Springs; practically drop us right on top of 'em."

Savannah shook her head as she went back to loading their gear. "_Non_ good, _cher_; ain't gettin' t'rough 80 or de bypass wid out a damn plow truck, we ain't. Gets all gummed up jus' 'fore Palmetto. No way t'rough. Best bet is to stick to de back roads. 'Sides, I ain't gettin' dat close to de city, me. _Merde_, but you seen how bad it is. Where I found you ain't even dat bad compared to mos' the rest o' Atlanta," She muttered, climbing into the cab.

Merle grunted, climbing into the passenger seat without complaint. "What the hell were ya doin' out there anyways, Frenchie? Not that I'm bitchin', but kinda figured you wouldda hauled ass back ta Louisiana."

Savannah gave him a tight smile as she kicked the engine over, and shifted into first gear, starting down the long driveway. "After Ah left... Mais, my famille... would o' been too hard ta 'splain, you know? An' by de time I knew how bad all dis merde really was... Too late. Weren't gonna go back, an' watch my famille eat each odder."

* * *

"So why you _non_ tell me Remy wen' an' got married?" Savannah asked accusingly, glaring at her mother.

"Mmhmm? An' _choo_ non tell choo maman choo bringin' a man home wid choo eidder," Odi said with a knowing look, as she continued chopping up vegetables for dinner.

"Wh – Maman, dat ain't de same t'ing, an' you _know_ it! Mah older brudder go an' get himself married, an' nobody tells me? Not'in like me bringin' a friend back home."

Odi frowned, sighing as she set the knife down, and moving her hands to her hips as she turned to look at her oldest daughter. "A'ight, Vanna. Choo want to know why? Dere were no _weddin_'. Maria's t'ree mont's pregnant, her is. Dey only got married a mont' ago, dem did. So dere, now choo now, leave me 'lone so I can get dinner started. Make choo self useful, get Maria, an' take dese out to de _bougs_, _oui_?" She said in a tone that booked no room for argument as she set a pitcher of sweet ice tea on the counter, along with two glasses.

"Really, maman?" Savannah said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. "Why you doin' dis, huh? You know daddy already non happy wid de whole t'ing."

"Him _choo_ guest, chere. An' as choo guest, choo get to take him out him drink, choo do. Now shoo! Get out o' my kitchen! Shoo!"

* * *

Merle grunted as he hauled up another load of dirt with the post hole digger. "How deep down these gotta be?"

" 'Bout foot or so. Damn gators knock dem down. Do dis e'ery couple o' weeks, we do," Remy said casually, pulling a few more fence pieces out of the back of the truck.

Merle rolled his eyes as he scooped up another load of dirt. Only damn fools would live some place where fucking _alligators_ knocking down fences was a normal thing.

But he wasn't about to say that to Savannah's oldest brother. The guy must have been easily pushing on six foot five, close to two hundred pounds.

"So choo an' Vanna, hm? Wha's goin' on dere?"

He fumbled a little, nearly tripping at the Cajun man's casual tone. "Uh... Ain't nothin' 'goin' on'. We jus' kinda... Back at boot camp, she uh... Not a lotta women who can play rough with the boys, ya know? Kinda started hangin' out, an' when I ran in ta some problems goin' home, she offered ta let me an' Daryl stay here for a few weeks," He said uncomfortably, not liking Remy's grin.

Thankfully, he was saved from further embarrassment when they heard Remy's wife call out.

"Hey, boys!"

The blonde woman smiled as she planted a kiss on her new husband's lips. "Brought you two out some tea."

But Merle barely heard her, his mouth temporarily unresponsive as he stared at Savannah in her Daisy Duke short shorts, and the tight red tank top.

"Wow. Gotta say, the greens didn't do nothin' for ya, Frenchie," He finally managed, pulling his eyes away from her _long-legs that seemed to just never end... Up, and up, and..._

"Ha ha, you a damn riot," She grumbled, handing him a glass of tea. "How's it coming?"

Merle shrugged, draining the glass before handing it back. " 'Ccordin' to yer brother, gonna have ta do this 'gain next week when the 'gators' come back," He grumbled.

"Yeah. Ol' Frenchie used to be out here at least once a week replacin' de damn fence," She said with a chuckle.

"You people's crazy."

"Dat's what dey say, dem. Maman says dinner's in a few _heures_. Gon' be done by den?" Savannah asked, turning her attention to her brother.

"_Oui_. Probably _non_ even dat long."

"A'ight. _Mais_, we probably bedder get back an' give maman a hand. An' quit lookin' at my ass, Dixon!" She tossed back over her shoulder at Merle.

Merle grinned, barely aware that he was humming 'Sweet Cherry Pie' under his breath, until he glanced over, and seen Remy smiling at him.

"What?" He said roughly, resuming his digging.

"Choo poor, poor, _salaud_," The large man said with a chuckle.

"What?!"

"Choo be nine kinds o' fucked, cher, an' choo don' even know it yet."


	15. Fun

A/N: So... Firstly I lied about this being the last chapter of Lantier family. There will be another chapter. Oops. This one started to run a little bit longer, and the next section would have pushed it up towards 4500 words... So yeah. BUT... As promised... Merle/Savannah smut. I will apologize, I suck at smut, so it probably won't be what you really want, but I tried my best lol. Y'all have Noxid Anamchara (Formerly Endoh Misaki) for this chapter. I was kind of at a loss, but whenever I'm suffering from writer's block, or just trying to figure out the complicated man that is Merle, she's there to listen to my insane -and sometimes unintelligible- ramblings. For anyone looking for Merle or Daryl fics, hers are HANDS DOWN the best I've found in this fandom. So, take a bit of a pause, go read her stuff, and come on back. I'll wait.

Anyways, as always, thanks for reading, special epic thanks for reviewing, and enjoy. : )

* * *

After three weeks, the Lantier Clan, plus Merle and Daryl, had fallen into a comfortable routine, a first for both the Dixon brothers, Merle thought with a contented sigh.

He'd go out, and help Remy with some work around the small farm, or helping him work on the man's own new house. Savannah and Maria would bring them out something to eat and drink, visit for awhile, and then the two young men would work for a few more hours, before heading back to the house, where the women would have dinner almost ready. They'd all sit down to eat –which was a loud, chaotic affair that went on for a good hour or more – and afterward, Miz Liz and Antoine would head off to bed, followed an hour or two later by Odi and Jean.

And then the younger kids would fall asleep in various spots -mostly around the front yard – while Remy, Merle, Savannah, and Maria, along with the next two kids of the Lantier brood, Alcide and Paul –seventeen and fifteen respectively – would sit up late into the night, drinking and playing cards.

Which was what he was currently doing, although after half a dozen beers, he had to admit he wasn't exactly at his best. But he was doing pretty good, he thought with a grin. He had almost a dozen jelly beans, a handful of candy bars, and close to five dollars in assorted change.

"Hey! Why don' you women make choo selves useful, an' get choo men some more beers, hm?" Remy said with a grin, giving Maria a large kiss, and slapping her ass playfully as she rolled her eyes .

"Mmhmm," The blonde said with an eye roll, ruffling her husband's unruly, shoulder length brown hair. "Vanna, you comin'?"

Savannah –who'd had more than a few beers herself –glared at both her brother, and sister-in-law, but stood up, grumbling something in French under her breath as she followed Maria towards the house.

"Why y'all keep doin' that shit?" Merle asked, taking another swig of his beer. "She's gettin' pissy 'bout it."

The three boys all grinned, Alcide nearly choking on his beer as he chuckled, the three of them babbling in French for a minute, before bursting out in another round of laughter.

"What the hell am I missin'?" Merle demanded, frowning as he leaned back in the chair. The last two weeks, pretty much everyone had done the exact same thing anytime they saw either him or Savannah, and whenever he asked, usually he got chuckles, or bursts of French that he couldn't even begin to understand.

"Choo… Choo got no clue, _non_ choo don'!" Alcide said, taking another swig off his beer, laughing again as Paul whispered something in his ear.

"No clue 'bout what?! Ya damn chuckle-heads keep sayin' that, but ain't nobody tellin' me what the hell is goin' on!"

Remy finally stopped laughing, although the grin never left his face. "Choo gotta understand, cher… 'Round here? Vanna's a _vielle_ _fille_, a uh… how choo say it… Ol' maid?"

"Yer kiddin' right?" Merle asked incredulously. "She's twenty!"

"Oui, an' 'round here? _Filles_ get married young. Maria's only seventeen. Alcide an' Paul's girls? Dem's already talkin' 'bout gettin' married, dem, an' dey's only fourteen. S'how t'ings work down here, cher. Way it always been," Remy said with a shrug.

"An' jus' what the hell's this got ta do with me?" Merle asked suspiciously. "Already done told y'all, me an' Frenchie's jus' friends."

Paul sighed dramatically, leaning forward across the picnic table. "Choo gotta understand, cher… We ain't uh… what choo call it? Um… 'liberated'. Don' buy into all dat..." He hesitated, looking at his brothers, clearly at a loss for the word he needed.

"Feminist _merde_," Alcide offered.

"Oui. Dat. Way t'ings are down here... When a _fille_ sets her eyes on de _homme_ she wan', part o' de courtin' way is for her to take care o' him. Do all de t'ings him maman usually do for him, _oui_?"

Even after a few beers, Merle's mind quickly picked up on where the Cajun brothers were going with their little speech. "So... ya sayin' Frenchie's... she's, what, fuckin' '_courtin_' me or some shit?"

Another round of loud laughter, as Remy shook his head. "_Non_, _cher_. See... Our maman... Her liddle tired o' waitin' for Savannah ta be settlin' down, get herself married. Part o' de reason Vanna runned off, an' joined de Marines? Maman was tryin' ta 'rrange a marriage to one o' de local bougs. Vanna wan' no'tin ta do wid it. But now dat she's here... Maman is _makin_' her take care o' choo. Like a Cajun woman do for her man, _oui_?"

Instantly, it all became clear to Merle, and he stood, pressing his fists down on the table as he glared at the three boys.

"Look… I don't really give a fuck how you people do shit in this fucked up swamp a yers. But where I'm from? We don't force our women ta do things they don't wanna do. An' I really don't like bein' in the middle a this mess. So take yer stupid jokes, an'… an' the whole 'courtin' thing? An' fuckin' shove it," He said softly, trying to keep his tone even.

* * *

"Jesus, girl, what's wrong with you, huh?" Maria asked with a laugh as they each grabbed a few beers.

"A'ight, firs', Maria? I got t'ree years on you, so don' give me dat _merde_, hm? An' Ah gettin' real tired o' explainin' to you an' de jackasses out dere... Merle an' me, we's jus' friends, oui? Don' understand why non o' you can figure dat out," She snapped, slamming the fridge shut.

"But why?! Vanna, that is one fine specimen a man, huh? 'Sides, ain't like you's gettin' any younger, ya know?" The short little blonde said with a pointed look, leaning back against the counter.

"_Oui_," She said grudgingly. "But dat ain't de point. Ain't like you, _chere_. Savannah ain't lookin' for de husband, de house, de kids, an' de freakin' dog, hm? Dat ain't what dis _fille_ lookin' for, non."

Maria sighed. "Ya always were different, Vanna. What's so bad about all that?"

"Ain't nothin' '_bad_' 'bout it, _chere_. Jus' ain't what Ah want. Ain't like you, an' all de odder girls. Don' wanna spend de res' o' my life takin' care o' a _homme_, wiping noses, an' planning meals. Dat ain't me, Maria."

"So what are ya then, Vanna? What do you want, hm? I've known you for a long time, girl. You ain't never been interested in nothin' an' nobody 'round here. So jus' what the hell are ya lookin' for? Adventure, or some stupid shit?" At Savannah's glare, Maria sighed again. "Vanna, look, I... I'm not tryin' ta be mean, okay? But that shit don't happen, a'ight? Now you got a guy sittin' out there, an' he might not be Indiana Jones, but he seems to be a decent guy. Shit, girl, it's obvious he likes ya. An' it's obvious ya like him. Sometimes, that's enough, yeah?"

Savannah glared, towering over the much shorter girl for a few seconds, before grunting, and moving back towards the door.

"_Hè_!" She called, her bad mood turning into concern. "Where de hell did Dixon go?" At the guilty looks on Remy, Paul, and Alcide's face, she groaned. "De fuck did you _maudit_ _bioques_ do?!"

"Didn' do no'tin, us!" Paul whined in the face of his sister's anger. "Was jus' jokin' wid him, we were!"

"Non, you had to keep up wid all dis stupid _merde_ you _couillons_ been doin' ever since we got here! Which way him go, huh?"

* * *

Merle was sitting on the fence, nursing his beer, when he heard the soft footsteps behind him. A few moments later, Savannah appeared from behind him, and sat down next to him.

"Look, _cher_… Jus' ignore dem, a'ight?" She said softly. "Dey's jus' bein' stupid, hm?"

Merle chuckled a bit as he took another sip of his beer. "Ya know… My parents uh… They met at the bar. Piss-ass drunk. Same as always. They hooked up, she got pregnant… Their parents made 'em get married. Eight months later, I rolled along. An' they hated each other. Used ta pound the shit outta each other, when they weren't takin' it out on me an' Daryl. Right up 'til she died.

"I uh… Guess my point is… This 'arranged' marriage shit. It's fuckin' stupid. I mean, I know it's different, but uh… Yer family expectin' ya ta get married, jus' 'cause I happen ta be here… Jus' pissed me off, ya know?"

"_Oui_, trus' me, _cher_: Ol' Frenchie knows. Ever since Ah was t'irteen, whole famille been pushin' me ta find a husband, pop out a few brats, get de house…" Savannah trailed off, shrugging as she reached over, and grabbed his beer, taking a sip before handing it back.

"So why didn't ya?"

"Dat ain't me, ya know? I uh… I wan' some'tin more den jus' playin' servant, an' nurse maid, ya know? Hell, Ah ain't even sure I want kids. Ah jus' wanna have some fun 'fore I seddle down."

"I can be fun."

Almost as soon as he'd said it, Merle regretted his words. He could feel his face turning red as Savannah glanced over at him with a smile.

"Uh huh. Sure you can, cher. Don' make de miserie wid me, hmm? Bein' serious, Ah am."

Merle forced a small laugh, nearly choking on it, a part of him relieved that she hadn't taken him seriously, a part of him a bit disappointed.

Which was a big part of the problem, all the way around, he thought angrily. Savannah had his head all turned sideways. Wasn't sure what the hell he was feeling anymore.

"Look, cher… Ol' Frenchie tell 'em to stop, she will. T'ings jus' different down here. Way it always been, oui?"

He snorted. "That don't make it right, Frenchie. Yer family… They ain't got no right tryin' ta force ya ta do somethin' ya don't want. 'Specially since they don't even fuckin' know me. Shit, nobody in their right fuckin' mind would want their kid endin' up with me."

"Oh, dat ain't true, cher. You's a great guy. Maybe liddle rough 'round de edges… But dat don't mean merde, it don't. Girl be real lucky to have you, hmm?"

He snorted again, this time with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks for the pep talk, Frenchie, but we both know that ain't true."

He wasn't sure what exactly happened between his finishing his sentence, and Savannah's full, soft lips pressing against his. Mostly because his entire brain short-circuited, leaving him unable to move or even breath for a few seconds.

But when she pulled away, biting her bottom lip, a nervous expression on her face, it kick started his brain, and he hopped off the fence, pushing himself between her knees, and kissing her back.

He could sense her surprise, but she recovered quicker than he had, opening her mouth a bit, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in against hers, where they battled for dominance, before she moaned, and moved her hands to his arms.

Merle responded by moving down her neck, kissing and sucking as he moved down to the base of her throat, his hands pulling her checkered over-shirt down her shoulders, revealing her tanned, smoothed shoulders, a groan escaping his own throat as she pushed her nimble fingers up under his shirt, running them up and down his chest, a move that quickly turned into her digging her nails into his sides as he moved against her, his erection pressing against her.

"Pants! Off. Now!" She said breathlessly, pulling her hands out from under his shirt, and trying to pull his jeans down over his hips. He chuckled against her throat, picking her up, and gently laying her down on the ground. The sight of her laying there, panting heavily as she licked her lips nearly made him ache as he struggled with the button of his jeans, kicking his sneakers off, and shoving his pants down.

"Ya sure 'bout this?" He asked as he lay down on top of her, nuzzling his head on her chest, kissing her breast through the thin material of her strappy white shirt.

"Shut up, Merle," She growled, reaching her hand in-between their bodies, and grabbing a hold of his length, running her hand up and down.

He moaned as he arched into her hand, his fingers moving to the button on her jeans, finally ripping the damn thing off in his frenzied attempts, and pulling them down, along with her black boy-short panties.

And then, as her hand guided him inside of her throbbing heat… He didn't think anymore.


	16. What Follows

A/N: Alrighty so firstly, I apologize for the incredibly long hiatus... Lotta _merde_ going on, haven't much felt like writing lately. But I'm back, and even though this chapter is short -and could probably be better -I'm getting it up, and getting it out, so hopefully we can keep moving. I can't promise quick updates -still not exactly in the right head space -but I can promise to try. : ) Thanks to everyone who's read, special thanks to those who've reviewed, and special uber thanks to Noxid Anamchara. Without her, not only would this story never have come into existence, but it definitely would have fallen apart a long time ago. Any Merle fans should go and check out her stuff.

* * *

"So... where we go from here, cher?" Savannah asked quietly.

Merle took a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his face, the after-sex awkwardness setting in as he watched Frenchie slip into her underwear. "Can't jus' be happy with a roll in the hay, huh?"

Savannah chuckled as she reached for her pants, sliding them, followed by her over-shirt. "Ain't just talkin' 'bout _us_, Merle, an' you know it."

He growled as he sat up, glaring. "The hell's that mean?"

"Means you been here t'ree weeks, Merle. Ol' _chere_ is leavin' in t'ree more. You leavin' in two months. What you gon' do after I go, hmm? Where Daryl gon' go? An' _oui_, maybe ol' Frenchie wanna know where we goin'," She admitted quietly, with a self-deprecating little smile.

"I dunno, a'ight?"

* * *

Savannah sighed, moving around behind Merle, and setting her head on his shoulder. "_Cher_... Merle. Dis ain't complicated," She said quietly, as she moved her hands underneath his shirt, and started rubbing them up and down his back, before frowning. "Merle... De hell is dat?"

She could feel him tense underneath her a second before he pulled away, spinning around, and grabbing her wrists roughly, his blue eyes flashing.

"You know damn well what _that_ is, Savannah," He snapped. "You fuckin' know what '_that_' is. An' that's why this _is_ fuckin' complicated!" He threw her wrists away, pushing himself to his feet, as he began pacing. "I can't fuckin' leave Daryl there! 'Cause what ya jus' felt?! That's a typical Sunday mornin' in the Dixon house! My life ain't like yers, Savannah! We don't sit down, an' have fuckin' _meals_ together! Daryl don't get ta run around, hollerin' an' playin'! Back home, he makes a fuckin' peep while the damn football game's on, an' Pop's gonna break his damn jaw! Jesus fuckin' Christ," He finished, his voice going soft as he dropped onto his haunches, balancing precariously on the balls of his feet, and looking so damn lost that Savannah could feel her heart break. "I can't even look Daryl in the damn eye, Frenchie. Don't wanna know how many new scars he got while I was gone. When I fuckin' _left_ him there. I _knew_ what Pop would do ta him.

"I... I was in juvie, when our mama died. Six month sentence. When... When I came back... I found Daryl locked up in our room. Had ta break the damn door down, 'cause he'd locked it from the inside. Don't know how long he'd been layin' there, bleedin' all over the fuckin' bed, but... but the blood had fuckin' _dried_. Caked his shirt ta his damn back. He was passed out, an'... His face, it was... it was fuckin' white as snow... Lips were blue. An'... An' I thought I was too late, ya know? Thought... Thought he'd laid there, all by his self, an' fuckin' _died_ while I was locked up for stealin' a Goddamn bike. Thought my little brother died all alone, scared as hell as he fuckin' bled ta death.

"But when I... When I turned him over on ta his back... He whimpered at me. Fuckin' _whimpered_ like a Goddamn puppy somebody done kicked. An' he opened one eye – the one that _wasn't_ swollen completely fuckin' shut – an' he jus'... he got this little smile when he saw that it was me. Like... Like everythin' was gonna be okay, 'cause I was there, ya know? An' then... I turned right 'round, an' left him again," He finished quietly, chewing on his lip as he stared at the ground like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

"Merle... It don' have to be like dat, _cher_," Savannah whispered, moving back to him, and putting her hands on his face. "He don' have to go back, him don'. Him can stay here. Stay wid my _famille_. An' when we get back, maybe... maybe we... Maybe we stay here too, oui?" She said desperately. "It don' have to be like dat."

"So... so, what? I fuck ya once, an' all the sudden, we's gonna set up house somewhere? Live happily ever after, do... do what, raise Daryl as our fuckin' kid or some stupid shit? Jesus, thought ya didn't want no house, no kids," He asked incredulously. "Ain't neither of us that stupid, Frenchie. That happy endin' shit? That don't happen in real life, Frenchie, an' we both know it."

Savannah chuckled quietly, sitting back, crossing her legs underneath her. "You right, Merle. Frenchie ain't that stupid. An' she ain't sayin' we got to get married, or some merde. Dat ain't what chere sayin'. Just sayin' dat... dat you got options here, you do. Don' have to send Daryl back dere. You don' have to go back dere."


	17. First Time For Everything

A/N: Alrighty so... apologies for the lack of updates. I have no excuse. Y'all have Noxid Anamchara to thank for this chapter. If not for her input, and thoughts, not only would this chapter never have come to be... But probably this story in general lol.

* * *

"I don't wanna do this, Merle," Daryl said, his voice nearly quivering with his fear.

"Suck it up, little brother. All ya gotta do is sit in the jeep with Frenchie," Merle said dismissively, staring at the house, trying to hide his own uneasiness.

Finally, he climbed out of the jeep, surprised when Savannah got out as well.

"The hell ya think yer doin', Frenchie?"

She shrugged as she jumped up on the hood, lighting a cigarette before answering. "Jus' waitin', me. Jus' like ol' Merle tol' me."

"Can't wait inside the damn jeep?"

She shrugged as she lit a cigarette, and he rolled his eyes with a grunt as he forced his feet to move closer to the porch. He paused for just a moment, before taking a deep breath, and opening the door.

"Pop?" He called out, unsure of whether or not he wanted an answer.

"Merle? That you, boy?"

While he'd never admit it, the cocky swagger as he walked towards the living room, and the relaxed stance – arms folded across his chest, leaning against the archway – was nothing but bluff, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah, Pop. It's me," He said, forcing himself to sound casual.

His panic went up a few notches when Harold's eyes met his, the icy blue clear as could be, a small, evil smile on the older man's face. The smile he'd seen thousands of times, the smile that promised a new thresh hold of pain.

"Daryl with you?"

"Yeah." Merle was careful to keep his voice respectfully neutral; he knew stone-cold sober, he was no match for the older and bigger man. Some of the worst beatings he'd taken had been when Harold was sober.

"And jus' where the hell you two little shits been?"

"Louisiana. With a friend a mine."

"Hmm. So what the fuck are ya doin' back?"

Merle took another deep breath, trying to relax his muscles as a sharp edge entered Pop's voice. "Came back ta grab Daryl's shit, then we're goin' back," He said, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion.

He didn't have to wait long; almost before he'd finished, Harold had flown out of the chair – moving surprisingly quick for a man with his bulk – and rushing him in a headlong charge.

Instinct instilled in him at boot camp made him spin to the side just in time to avoid the old man, delivering a solid left hook to Harold's ribcage before he knew what he was doing.

But the loud crack seemed to stop time, as Harold grunted, dropping to his knees, neither father nor son moving for a moment.

Never once in his twenty-one years had he actually _punched_ his father. There'd been the odd, flailing fist while the old man held him down, but never had he purposefully _hit_ him. For a moment, he expected lightning to come down and strike him dead, or for his head to just pop like a damn balloon. He'd just fucking hit his fucking father. The monster that'd terrified and terrorized him his whole fucking life. He'd just fucking hit him...

And nothing was happening.

Nothing was happening, and... and it felt _fucking good_.

An almost euphoric high settled over him, and, unthinking, he kicked out with his booted foot, catching Harold in the chest, and sending him toppling to the ground. He couldn't help the grim, feral smile that came to his lips at the reversal of his entire life. For once, it was him looming over his father, him with the power. For the first time in his life, he could see Pop for what he really was. He wasn't that big; wasn't that scary. Wasn't no different than the thousands of assholes whose skulls he'd cracked at the bar. Wasn't no different than some of the other marines he'd thrown around like they was nothing.

_Pop was nothing. Weren't nothing scary about him._

With that thought coursing through his head, he knelt down, and grabbed his father by his shirt, pulling him up until their faces were almost touching.

"You ain't fuckin' _nothin_', ol' man. Jus' a fuckin' _pussy_," He hissed, repeating the words that Pop had said to him his whole life. "Couldn't hack it in the real world, so ya took it out on me an' Daryl. Not anymore. You ain't _never_ gonna lay a hand on me or him ever again, ya hear me? Not no more."

With that, he released Harold, and stormed up the stairs towards Daryl's room, the high never leaving him.

* * *

"Is Merle gonna be okay?"

Savannah frowned at Daryl as he climbed up onto the hood next to her. "You shouldn't be out here, _boug_. You brudder said wait in de jeep, him did."

The ten year old snorted, pulling his knees up to his chest, and wrapping his arms around them. "Like it makes shit bit a difference," He said, the bravado in his voice belied by the slight quiver. "Ain't like I'm gonna hear any better out here than I am in the jeep."

"Liddle _bougs_ like you _non_ 'posed ta swear," She said half-heartedly, giving him a small, preoccupied smile, before turning her gaze back to the house. She was trying to decide if the silence coming from the dark, dilapidated building was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Didn't answer my question," Daryl retorted, rolling his eyes at her.

"Ol' Merle, him gon' be jus' _fine_, Daryl. Him can take care o' hi –" She stopped short as the front door flew open, and a tall, hulking man tumbled out, one arm wrapped around his ribs.

"Daryl!"

* * *

Daryl froze as his father came stumbling down the steps, his face red, and eyes promising nothing good. He tried ducking behind Vanna, but she'd already dropped lightly off the hood, and was now standing between him and his quickly-approaching father.

"You come any closer, gon' be de las' t'ing you do for a while," She said, in a tone of voice Daryl had never heard from her before. It was dark, and scary sounding –_ like Merle sounded when people gave him shit, or Pop's voice right before shit got real bad_ – and almost before he knew what he was doing, he was scrambling up over the windshield, and back into the jeep, peering out over the dash.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Pop snarled, taking a step closer.

"Already done warned you, _salaud_: go back in de house. Ain't gon' say it 'gain, me."

"Vanna, don't!" Daryl said hoarsely. Was she stupid? Pop was gonna kick her ass nine ways from Sunday, and she was just _standing_ there.

"Shuddup, _boug_," She shot back, not turning to look at him.

"You little fucking shit stain!" Pop growled, moving to step towards the truck, a movement Savannah quickly countered, moving to stay in front of Pop. A move that only seemed to enrage him more. "Hidin' 'hind a fuckin' skirt, like a fuckin' pussy! Get yer ass out here!"

"Don' choo move, boug."

"An' jus' who the hell do ya think ya are, bitch?" Pop hissed, getting in Vanna's face, as Daryl braced for the inevitable.

"De bitch who gon' give choo a world o' hurt if'n choo don' ge' out her face."

Everything slowed down as Pop swung at Savannah, the Cajun woman moving gracefully to the left, before coming up behind Pop, and using her foot to send him tumbling to the ground. Daryl watched in mute horror as Pop lashed out with a booted foot, catching Savannah in the knee, a loud, audible 'pop' noise echoing through his ears as Vanna went down in a tumble, both combatants falling out of his view.

In a panic – and not knowing what else to do – Daryl bolted out of the jeep, and up the steps to the house.

* * *

Merle was shoving any clothes that he could find in a Wal-Mart bag, when he heard the sound of small feet pounding up the stairs.

"Boy, I tol' ya ta keep yer ass in the jeep!" He growled, spinning just in time to see Daryl burst through the door, the smaller Dixon's ribs heaving in exertion.

"Merle... Pop... An' Vanna... Pop's gonna kill her!"


	18. Road Trip

A/N: Alright so sorry about the long absence... Lot of things going on right now, so I'm not going to promise regular updates, but I hope you enjoy this chapter. : )

* * *

_"Merle... Pop... An' Vanna... Pop's gonna kill her!"_

For a brief moment, Merle's entire world rocked on its axle, time coming to an abrupt and violent halt, as Daryl's words sank in.

_Pop's gonna kill her!_

_Pop had gone after Frenchie._

_No_. Pop had gone after _Daryl_, and she had stepped in to stop him. No other reason for Pop to bother Savannah. Pop had probably gone out swinging, and Frenchie – _damn her for being nine kinds of stupid_ – had probably met him head on.

He'd fucked up, and Savannah was gonna pay the cost. Fuck if it wasn't somebody else always paying the price for his fuck ups. _Fuck_.

"You stay in this room, an' ya lock the fuckin' door behind me, boy, ya hear me?!" Merle snapped, finding his voice as he moved towards the door. When Daryl didn't answer, he spared the youngest Dixon a backwards glance. "Gonna be fine, 'lil brother."

He closed the door behind him, waiting only long enough to hear the lock catch, before racing down the stairs, his blood boiling, heart pounding in his ears as he hit the bottom the staircase, nearly sliding into the wall as he turned towards the front door.

He was already out the door, and halfway down the steps before his brain began to process the battle that had taken place in the front yard. But as soon as his mind caught up to his eyes, he skidded to a halt.

Frenchie was leaning on the jeep, one hand wrapped around her middle, blood pouring down her face from a gash on her forehead. The other hand was braced on the jeep, keeping her from putting any weight on her left knee, which was already swollen black and blue. Almost idly, he realized her kneecap had been dislocated, but the thought didn't really sink in as he turned his gaze to the body laying a few yards from the jeep.

"Frenchie? You alright?" He finally choked out, unable to move towards her.

She shook her head a bit, and he could see she was struggling to catch her breath.

"Merde, but... Ah t'ink I maybe... kill him, Merle. Fuck," She gasped, taking a weak, halting step towards him. Only instinct got his feet moving again, reaching out just in time to grab her as her knee gave out, and he suddenly found himself supporting her full weight.

* * *

After twenty minutes of silence, Daryl had quietly snuck down the stairs, heart pounding in his chest as he crept towards the front door.

"Cher, him need ta ge' to de hospital."

Daryl peaked around the door frame, relief filling him when he seen Merle and Vanna in the yard, kneeling next to...

For a moment, his heart stopped as he realized it was Pop laying on the ground.

"Fuck that." His big brother's voice was low, almost to low for Daryl to hear. "He can just 'walk it off'. Ain't that right, you fucker? Build some fuckin' character."

_How many times had Daryl heard those words from Pop? Broken arm? 'Suck it up'. Sprained ankle? 'Walk it off'. Broken nose? 'Buildin' some character'. _

"Cher –"

"No. Ya know how many times he would sit in that fuckin' chair, suckin' down his Coors and Newports, while me an' Daryl would fuckin' lay there? Broken bones, tryin' ta keep quiet so he wouldn't beat on us again?

"Used ta... ta jus' lay there, listenin' ta Daryl tryin' not ta cry... Knowin' he needed a fuckin' doctor but... was so bad myself that I couldn't... I just couldn't fuckin' move, an' I'd just stare at him..."

"Merle... He don' go, he gon' _die_, cher." Vanna's voice was as quiet as Merle's.

"Then let him. I'll sit here an' enjoy every fuckin' second 'til he's gone."

Daryl had never heard Merle sound like that. There was a quiet edge to his voice, the same one Pop would always get right before things went real bad.

The next half hour was the longest of Daryl's life. He sat huddled behind the door, listening to Pop moan and wheeze, as Merle and Vanna sat silently nearby. He sat and listened as Pop drew his last struggling breaths. Then he sat and listened as Merle and Vanna wrapped his body in a plastic tarp. Sat and listened as the jeep drove off.

And just like that... The nightmare that had been his life was over.

* * *

"So whaddya been doin' with yer life, Frenchie?"

Savannah never looked away from the car-strewn road, her eyes roving back and forth as she expertly weaved the little truck along the highway. "Same ol', same ol', cher. De marines... dey kep' ol' chere busy. Was in Somalia... Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq... Been bit o' e'ery where, me."

Merle bit his tongue, something he hadn't done in a long time, trying to resist the urge to ask more. What she'd done after she'd left him. Who she'd been with.

Had she missed him.

"_She's gone, Merle. Don't thing she's comin' back this time"_

"_She'll be back. She always comes back."_

It had taken him almost two years before he'd accepted that she was gone; that she wasn't coming back. Another year before he'd admitted to himself that he'd pushed her away. That he'd fucked up one too many times, that he'd pushed her further than she could take, and had pushed her away.

Looking back on it, Merle wasn't sure who Daryl had been more upset with, him or Savannah. He'd spent almost six months hiding out in his damn bedroom, doing Lord knew what, moping around like a kicked dog.

"Cher, don' like dat look you's getting'. Pas' is in de pas'."

He smiled over at her as he rolled down the window. "C'est la vie, right?"

"Dat's right, cher."

He was quiet for a few minutes, but eventually he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Did ya ever think 'bout me, Frenchie? Ever miss me or some shit?"

She bit her lip -and fuck if that didn't bring back memories -still staring out at the road. "Sometimes. But mostly 'dough... jus' tried not ta t'ink 'bout it."

* * *

"Careful, Frenchie."

Vanna grinned at Merle, wo was still sitting in the truck.

"Don' you worry none 'bout ol' Frenchie, cher; take lot more den a ol' cheriff ta ge' rid o' me."

She heard him scoff as she disappeared into the tree line, heard him mutter something about 'rottin', walkin' corpses', but for the most part she ignored him.

She sighed as she double checked her clips, and patted her buck knife, eyes scanning the woods, listening for the tell tale signs of the Biters. According to Merle, the camp had been on the south side of the reservoir, with his and Daryl's tent set up on the west edge of the camp, about twenty yards from the main camp.

Daryl.

An ache tightened her chest at the thought of the boy she'd thought of as her own. The fifteen year old she'd left behind seventeen years ago was now in his thirties, older than she'd been when she'd last seen him.

He'd just been starting to fill out when she'd left for good, going through that awkward not-a-man-not-a-boy phase. But for all that, he'd never been too big to cuddle up on the couch and watch old movies with her. Never been too old to play Uno or Phase 10 with her into the early morning hours.

But he wouldn't be the awkward, unsure boy she'd left behind. The young boy horribly scared by memories of his past would have grown up.

And a part of her was absolutely terrified at the thought of seeing him again.

But she had to get to the reservoir first, she reminded herself firmly, clamping down on her emotions, and pushing herself into battle mode. No point in worrying about what might happen.

* * *

Merle's hand itched, something he was still trying to get used to. He'd heard of 'phantom itch' of course – just about every soldier had – but experiencing it first hand was liable to drive him bat shit insane.

He growled as he got out of the truck, just barely remembering not to slam the door. It'd been almost three fuckin' hours since Savannah had stalked off into the woods, and he was long past 'impatient', and working towards 'irritated'.

As he stood leaning on the hood of the truck, wishing for a smoke, he eyeballed one of the larger trees at the edge of the clearing, before looking down at his still-bandaged stump.

"Fuck it," He growled again, moving to the base of the tree. He'd learned to climb one-handed as a kid – a necessary skill with how often his old man had broken his arms – but he hadn't done it in years. Since Daryl was still a kid, probably.

No time like the present though, he thought with a trin, tucking the stump against his stomach, and grabbing at one of the lower branches.

"An' jus' what de hell do ya t'ink you doin'?"

He spun around, relief warring with embarassment as he seen Frenchie standing a few feet away, arms folded across her chest.

"Got bored," He said quickly, moving towards her. "What'd ya find?"

She shrugged, moving over, and sitting down on the hood of the truck.

"Dey's gone. Looks like dey was 'ttacked by preddy big group o' de Biters. Lost least five or six folks from de look o' t'ings, but you tent was packed up, an' all you stuff loaded into an ol' pick up truck. Figure dat's pro'lly our boug, non?"

"You tell which way they was goin'?" He asked as they both umped in the truck.

Vanna stared at him quietly for a minute, her face unreadable as she started the truck, and shifted it into gear. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost too careless.

"Looks like dey split in ta two groups. One o' dem went south; de one wid de pickup... well, dat group wen' back towards de city."


End file.
